


Sleeping Beauty

by Robin_tCJ



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Alternate Season/Series 05, Explicit Sexual Content, Feels, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, M/M, Memory Alteration, Porn With Plot, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 15:03:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 45,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5544401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Robin_tCJ/pseuds/Robin_tCJ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alternate Season 5 where Angel Investigations took over Wolfram & Hart, but things happen in an entirely different way. Which includes Angel & Wes getting together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He watches blunt, wide fingers work for a few moments when he walks in the door. Not the hands of an artist, but Wesley has seen the talent in those hands that comes from a photographic memory and over two-hundred years to learn proper technique. Sketches have littered their room before, when Angel's gotten into a particularly nostalgic mood, and drawn everything his mind can think of. Some of those sketches are of Wesley, in various stages of dress and undress, but most of the time they're more painful memories for Angel; the women and men he'd called friends or lovers once, but had died somewhere along the line fighting the good fight.   
  
Sketches clutter the room again today, when Wesley comes in from the office after working late to translate a mundane prophecy. Mundane enough that it wasn't very important at the moment, but important enough in the future that there was no one else he trusted to do it.   
  
A sketch near the ottoman catches Wesley's eye, and he bends to pick it up. He studies it for a moment, brow furrowed. It looks to be a fairly young man, perhaps a teenager.   
  
"Who's this, Angel?"   
  
"It's not important, Wes."   
  
"No, I don't suppose it is. I was just wondering who he was."   
  
"Not important." Angel snatches the rough sketch from his hands, stuffs it into the bottom of the drawer, and Wesley can see Angel barely resist slamming the drawer shut. Wesley decides not to ask again, compelled not to press Angel on the subject.


	2. Chapter 2

It's fairly unexpected when it happens the first time. Wesley's in his office, leaning back in his plush, black leather Herman Miller Aeron chair, trying to work the kink out of the left side of his neck and ease the stiffness from his left shoulder. He's been working on this translation for days, and he's remembering by now that making his eyes cross permanently isn't going to speed up the translation.   
  
He's wishing he'd asked Jennifer to order him a masseuse before she went home for the day when there's a light knock on the door. "Come in," he calls, sitting back in his chair and wincing slightly as his neck protests it.   
  
"Angel," he greets the enterer. His smile is genuine, if more than a little tired.   
  
"Still working?" Angel asks quietly.   
  
"I'm afraid so. I've yet to find the word carri-nikmar in any of the texts Wolfram and Hart has available, however."   
  
"That's a word?" Angel asks, coming closer to the desk.   
  
Wesley stretches his neck to the right, this time managing to hold back the grimace. "By all accounts, yes. Except that it doesn't appear to have a definition."   
  
"Is it important?"   
  
"Not terribly, but…"   
  
"But you can't bring yourself to stop looking."   
  
"I'm afraid not."   
  
Angel gives him a half-smile. Wesley smiles back. He's comfortable with the fact that he and Angel have worked together long enough that his peculiar obsession about proper translation isn't seen as a character flaw.   
  
Angel moves to lean against Wesley's desk, and Wesley bites his lip when Angel's behind wrinkles the corner of a page that's resting there.   
  
That's when it happens. Angel reaches out, and Wesley trusts his friend enough not to flinch back from the touch, and then Angel's hand is on the left side of his neck, and there's the most delicious pressure, for barely a second, and a feeling in the top of his spine that almost feels like a pop but is far too gentle to be such, and the tension is gone. Completely gone; no pain, no stiffness, no overwhelming need to see a chiropractor.   
  
Wesley blinks up at him, and Angel gives him a gentle smile before standing, turning, and leaving the office. Wesley silently watches the door close and waits a full ten seconds before letting the air out of his lungs.   
  
  
  
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
  
The next day, Angel appears to have forgotten the incident, so Wesley pretends that he has as well. Obviously it wasn't a big deal to Angel, so Wesley convinces himself that it's not a big deal to him, either. After all, Angel could likely see the stress on the muscles in Wesley's neck, and was doing his friend a favor. Granted, a little warning might have been appreciated, but the end result was favorable; Wesley's neck didn't hurt anymore, and without that distracting him he'd managed to find the translation he'd been looking for, which meant he'd been able to go home for a few hours of sleep before appearing back in the office.   
  
With no acknowledgement of the incident the night before, the day goes along as usual. There's a new threat to thwart, and they do so as efficiently as always, which is to say that it takes entirely too much time and there's one too many injuries on their side, but they manage to scrape by at the last moment without any real casualties save for the previously mentioned threat.   
  
Of course, by 'real casualties', Wesley isn't including his own back. He's walking stiffly, when they get back to the office, annoyed at himself for over-rolling and obviously pulling an important muscle. He manages to make it to his office all right, but when he moves to sit down in his plush leather chair, his spine protests so much that he can't actually move. He would very much like to be sitting, or preferably lying down, but his back has locked itself into a position that has him hissing in pain while he leans forward, propped up by his hands on his desk.   
  
He's stuck like that for a few minutes, debating whether to risk falling while reaching to press the intercom button on his phone, when there's a knock at the door. He silently thanks a deity or two, and calls for the individual to enter.   
  
"You okay, Wes?" Angel asks, stepping directly to the desk, already knowing the answer to his question as Wesley's tense eyes flick up to look at him.   
  
"One would imagine that a man barely over thirty could roll on the ground without having to suffer back spasms," Wesley replies ruefully, pain straining his voice slightly.   
  
"Let me help you."   
  
Angel moves and supports him enough so that he can stand with a not-quite contained groan. Angel practically has to drag him over to the sofa, and when they find that Wesley can't actually lie down on it himself, Angel simply picks him up and deposits him carefully on it. He turns Wesley so that he's lying on his stomach, and moves to touch his back.   
  
"Really, Angel, I'm fine," Wesley says. "You don't have to…"   
  
But Angel's hands are on his back, and Wesley remembers the magic Angel managed to work on his neck the day before. "I can do this, Wes."   
  
"I think if I just lie here without moving for a month or so, I'll be able to get up," Wesley protests again, although Angel's gently massaging hands seem to be helping a little.   
  
"Or, you could let me help, and you'll be doing the Robot in an hour."   
  
Angel presses the pads of his fingers against the dip of Wesley's lower back, earning a creak of almost-pleasure from him.   
  
"I don't think I've ever done the Robot."   
  
"You must have."   
  
"I'll never admit to having tried it. I never was a very good dancer, " Wesley replies, chuckling low in his throat. Angel's hands are amazing. He seems to find just the right places to press, and Wesley can feel the pain lessening enough that he probably could stand, now, and even walk to his SUV and get home to lie in his own bed.   
  
But strangely, he doesn't want to tell Angel so.   
  
"Not that you could call the Robot fine dancing," Angel says softly. "You should relax more."   
  
Wesley blinks at the sudden turn of the conversation. "I'm sorry?"   
  
"You don't relax. Ever. You leave the office after I do, and you're here before me. And I live upstairs."   
  
Wesley stiffens. "There are things that need to be done," he finally says.   
  
"It isn't good for you. No wonder you've got so many knots back here."   
  
Wesley moves his arms, and starts to push himself up.   
  
"Done, then?" Angel asks, moving back and sitting on his heels as Wesley sits up, swinging his legs down so his feet are on the carpet. Wesley has to look down at it; Angel's eyes are far too knowing.   
  
"I'm fine, Angel. Thank you. I believe I can make it home, now."   
  
"Why don't you stay there, tomorrow?"   
  
"I have work to do here," Wesley replies, standing up stiffly, wincing at the slight twinge in his back but grateful that he's able enough to at least move. There's a challenge in Angel's eyes, but he says nothing.   
  
"I worry about you," he finally says, before turning and leaving the office.   
  
Wesley's feeling even more dumbfounded than he had been last night.   
  
  
  
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
  
The third time's the charm, which is a cliché but incredibly valid. It's a week later, and Wesley's knocking on Angel's door. Angel calls him in, already moving to the door and taking the thick folder from Wesley's hand. Angel goes directly to the desk, sits down and opens it.   
  
"This is everything?"   
  
"Everything I've managed to come up with about a leporid demon raising, yes. I wish it were more, but I think that's a fairly extensive overview. It should be enough."   
  
Angel skims over the file.   
  
"Is there a rush?" Wesley finally asks. From all accounts, the event won't even be plausible for at least several months. The planets have to be within a certain alignment, and some of the components to perform such a raising are impossible to find at best.   
  
"No."   
  
"Then is there a particular reason you've had me spend the entire day on this?"   
  
Angel glances up. "Yes."   
  
"Perhaps you'd like to shed some light on it for those of us who haven't had the pleasure of living in your head?"   
  
Angel sits back. "Because I know you Wes," he says, standing up and walking around to stand in front of his desk. In front of Wesley. "If I give you a project, you're going to spend the entire day working on it. You won't stop for meals, and you won't go home until it's either finished, or you're so tired you can barely stand."   
  
"So you've decided to take up torture again, then?"   
  
Angel steps forward. "No." Wesley stiffens, because suddenly he's hyper-aware of the fact that Angel's worked his way well into Wesley's personal space. "Mostly I just wanted to get you alone."   
  
With that, Angel leans forward and kisses Wesley breathless.


	3. Chapter 3

Angel steps back, and Wesley flutters his eyes open, dazed. He looks at Angel, and it seems that Angel is searching him for something. Regret? Anger? 

But Wesley's still too shocked to know even know what he's feeling. Angel just kissed him. 

"Wesley?" 

And suddenly Angel's entire demeanor has changed. He's spent the last week seeming more strong and confident than ever, but now Wesley can see the fear of an unsure little boy. It amazes himself that Angel can seem so innocent sometimes; 252 years not withstanding, Angel still doesn't understand everything in the world, and still questions. 

Strangely, Wesley wants to kiss the questions away. But he doesn't. Can't. Angel's...just standing there. Waiting. 

"Angel, I..." 

Angel takes another step back. "I'm sorry. I thought..." Angel turns, moving to go back behind his desk, and Wesley imagines it as a brick wall that Angel's hiding behind, trying to put something between them that's more physical than the tension that's there right now. Wesley doesn't like that idea. 

"I think...I think I need some time to think about this," Wesley finally says. 

"Okay. I get that." 

Wesley blinks, and after a moment's hesitation, jerkily turns and leaves the room. He makes it all the way to the elevator before his hands start to shake. 

And he does think about it. Thinks about nothing else on the elevator ride, the drive home, his usual nightly routine of slowly sipping from a tumbler of whiskey while he reads the latest project roster. This evening, however, he's simply staring at the words on the page. 

Because Angel kissed him. And God, Wesley liked it. He hadn't...well, no, he knew he'd wanted Angel. It was Angel. Wesley's admiration for the man had started five years ago, but he'd never thought...well, he'd hoped, once upon a time, but after Darla's return the first time, he'd realized that a relationship with Angel just wasn't in his destiny. He'd dealt with it, moved on, and now... Now Angel had kissed him. 

Wesley gets even less sleep than usual that night. He can't stop thinking about Angel, and what that kiss meant, what it could mean, why Angel did it, if Wes himself reacted wrong, what would happen now. His mind whirls, and when he drags himself out of bed in the morning, he's come to no conclusions. 

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Wesley goes to the office, and instead of going to his own office, he goes to Angel's office. Lets himself in, and sits down on Angel's plush leather sofa, and waits. 

It's an hour before Angel opens his door, and enters the room. Wesley stands, immediately, and waits. 

"Wes," Angel greets him, his step faltering a little. He blinks. 

"Angel." 

A moment, or a thousand moments, and Wesley takes the necessary amount of steps to meet Angel across the room. Another moment, hesitation and Wesley almost shrugs. "In for a penny," he whispers, and leans forward. 

The kiss is shorter than last night's, but it's charged. It's fairly chaste by most standards, no tongues or teeth, just lips sliding against one another. Wesley leans back, and after a moment Angel smiles. Really smiles. 

And that breaks Wesley's resolve to be proper. He practically leaps forward, capturing Angel's mouth again, and this time sucks Angel's lower lip into his mouth and runs his tongue along it. He feels the vibration rather than hears the sound of the small groan that comes from Angel's chest, and then his arms are caught in strong, cool hands and he's veritably dragged against Angel's body, so they're touching from thighs to ribs, and Angel's tongue is in his mouth, swiping at every inch it can reach. 

Wesley moans, and wonders when his knees are going to give out, because that's definitely coming next. The question is answered, however, when there's a light knock on the door. Angel jumps back, and rakes his eyes over Wesley, who, with a cough, straightens his shirt. Angel licks his lips, and Wesley has to lock his knees to stay upright, and the door opens. 

"Hey, Boss," Harmony chirps with a grin as she enters the room. She's got a mug of blood in one hand and a sheaf of papers in the other, and glides across the floor with both, placing them gently on Angel's desk. She heads back for the door. "Oh, and by the way, Angel, you've got a meeting at nine o'clock with the Project Manager at Spalding Communications." 

"Thank you, Harmony," Angel replies. He hasn't taken his eyes off Wesley's. Wesley can't help but stare back. The door snicks shut behind Harmony as she leaves, and Angel steps forward, obviously intent on picking up where they left off. 

"Angel..." Wesley protests, taking a step back. Angel stops. Wes can almost see the smoke coming out of his ears as he wonders whether Wes has changed his mind. It almost makes Wesley laugh. "This probably isn't the best time for..." 

Angel's brain catches up; Wesley can see the gears click into place. "Right. Office. Work." 

"Exactly." 

"So...?" 

"So I'm going to go to my own office. I'm going to go about business as usual, as are you. I'm going to work late, and I suspect that when I finish, you'll still be here, in your office, and perhaps then...?" 

"How about you just come up to my place?" Angel asks, and Wes struggles to drag air into his lungs. 

"Your place?" 

"Unless you'd rather not." 

Wesley thinks about it for several moments. It's a terrible idea; starting a...something-or-other with his employer, his friend, but... He finds himself nodding. This time, when Angel leans forward, Wesley doesn't step away. He lets Angel kiss him, more a promise than a preview, and step back to open the door again. Wes blinks once more, takes a deep breath, and leaves the office. 

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

"You're late." 

"Yes. I apologize. Circumstances in my department were less than favorable this afternoon, and I had an immense amount of paperwork to deal with in the aftermath." 

"Anything I should be concerned about?" 

"Nothing substantial, though I did have to terminate the employment of one of my most dedicated researchers." 

Angel closes the door behind Wes as he enters. "That's tough." 

"Well, considering that most of his favorite research projects involved ways to gain entry to the lower level vaults and get his hands on a particularly dangerous talisman, I should have been expecting it." 

"We done with the small talk?" 

"One would imagine as much, yes." 

Then they're kissing. Wesley's pressed up against the door, nearly slammed there with the force of Angel plastering their bodies together, mouth devouring Wesley's lips. 

Wesley lets out a moan as Angel's hands steal the bottom of his shirt from the waistband of his trousers, caressing his trembling stomach with cool hands that felt immeasurably hot. He can't do anything but clutch at Angel's shoulders, feeling cool silk over smooth steel, wondering when exactly his life turned upside down. 

His lungs are burning, craving air, but he can't be arsed to care, because the last thing he wants to do is give up Angel's mouth. Angel seems to anticipate his need for air, and moves his mouth; not off of Wesley, just off his mouth, so that Angel's lips and tongue and teeth are doing indescribable things to his jaw and his throat, and Wes can gasp and struggle for air as much as he likes, though he's discovering that breathing's a bit more difficult than usual at the moment. 

He knows this is entirely too fast. It's Angel. This shouldn't be happening at all, let alone as quickly as this. But, he thinks, fuck it. He's not going to get another chance like this. Wesley doesn't often go after what he wants anymore, but he knows that now is the time to change that. 

"I wanted to thank you," he murmurs, raising his hand to lace his fingers through the hair on the back of Angel's head. 

"Yeah?" Angel's mouth doesn't leave the muscle of his neck that travels down from his ear, and Wes shivers. 

"Yes. You did such a good job of removing the kinks in my spine. I wanted to say thank you." 

"You're welcome." A gentle nibble at his ear, and Wes leaned more heavily against the door. 

"I also wanted to ask you...I'm afraid I may have developed another. I was hoping you could...?" 

"Of course, Wes," Angel says, stepping back. He gently pulls Wes up and away from the door, and turns him around. He places both hands on the middle of Wesley's back. "Where?" 

"Lower." 

"Here?" 

"Lower still," Wesley answers. 

"Wes?" 

"Yes, Angel?" 

"You playing with me?" 

Wesley waits for a moment, taking stock of their position. His body is pressed against the door, with Angel's hands quite expertly cupping the globes of his ass, gently massaging. He chuckles low in his throat, the sound turning into a groan as Angel squeezes just right. 

"It's a possibility," Wesley finally says. Suddenly he's whirled around, with Angel directly in his face. His heart skips a beat, and he wonders if he's done the wrong thing, again, but then Angel grins. It's nearly scary. 

"Don't stop, then," Angel says, and they're drowning again, mouths fused together as Angel replaces his hands on Wesley's ass, pulling and squeezing as he walks backwards, and Wesley lets himself be dragged further into the apartment, through a doorway until Angel turns him around and pushes down, knocking what little air Wes has out of his chest as Angel lands on him, on the firm, luxuriously covered bed. 

"What's your next move, Wes?" Wesley looks up at him curiously. "Your game, your call." 

Wesley takes a moment to think about it. "Chess." 

Angel blinks at him. "Chess?" 

"That, or I thought I might suck your cock. You can decide." 

"Been a long time since I played a decent game of chess," Angel replies. Wesley's eyes narrow and he reaches a hand down, smacking Angel's ass playfully. Angel smirks at him and leans down to steal another kiss, but Wesley uses the movement to roll them over so that now he's laying atop Angel. 

"I've changed my mind; you no longer get to make the decisions." 

"Yes, Wesley."


	4. Chapter 4

Wes grins and leans down for a kiss, while his hands move to Angel's chest and begin carefully unbuttoning his silk shirt. Angel chuckles, but it's cut off when Wesley's tongue runs along the dip between his pectoral muscles. Wes presses wet kisses along Angel's abdomen, slowly moving ever lower, until he reaches Angel's trousers. He runs his tongue under the waistband, and Angel moans. Wesley hides his smile as his fingers begin gently pulling at the fastenings of Angel's pants. Angel lifts his hips slightly to help, and soon Wesley pulls them down far enough to access Angel's erection. 

Which, by the way, is certainly lovely. Wesley can't help a shy glance up at Angel, who's looking at him with such...lust. Wes holds back a whimper and puts his head back down. He doesn't take Angel in his mouth, yet. He's savoring this. He takes a deep breath, smelling the musk of Angel's arousal, and can't help but nuzzle against the rigid flesh with his cheek. 

"Jesus, Wes," comes from Angel's throat, and it's ragged and strained, and Wesley has to look up again. He's never seen such an intense gaze: Angel is watching him, seemingly unable to tear his eyes away from Wesley at his cock, and Wesley can imagine what he's feeling, because he's feeling something akin to it, himself. To be this close, to be able to touch and smell Angel's arousal, to look up and see Angel's chest, face, body, spread out and bared for him, for him, to know that he's allowed to do this, to touch and smell and taste. 

Which, speaking of... Wesley dips, and takes the head of Angel's cock in his mouth, swirls his tongue around the tip, and moans at the cool salt and copper taste. He looks up, mouth still attached, and starts to move down, never taking his eyes off of Angel's. 

Angel's watching him, and Wes suddenly knows what it would have felt like to be stared down by Angelus. Angel's eyes are intense, feral, hungry, single-minded. To be the subject of that look...It's like the rest of the world has fallen away, and for Angel, there's nothing remaining but Wesley. Wes moans, and his eyes flutter closed as he presses further down, feeling Angel deep in the back of his throat, swallowing around the thick head as he helplessly grinds his own hips against the bed, looking for some form of friction. 

"Open your pants, Wes," Angel groans, propping himself up on his elbows, and Wesley's eyes flutter open again to meet that passionate stare. "I wanna see you touch yourself." 

Wes moans again, fingers clawing into Angel's hard thighs as he regains some semblance of control. After a moment of suction, he manages to turn his body enough that he can open the fly on his trousers, and push them down enough that his own cock springs up. He shudders when the head of it slaps against his belly, and Angel moans. 

"Fuck, Wes." 

Wesley groans in agreement, and Angel's hips twitch. 

"Touch yourself." 

Wesley's too far gone now, he can't help but obey the request. He whimpers and wraps his left hand around his cock, tipping his hips enough that Angel can have the view that he's asked for. Angel moans, and Wesley puts more effort into bobbing his head up and down on Angel's erection, sucking and licking on each upstroke. 

He's jerking himself off in time with the movements of his mouth, and he can feel Angel's hips start to twitch more powerfully. 

"God, Wes...the way you look right now. God, I wish you could see. Your hand, your cock, your fucking beautiful mouth...all your clothes on..." Angel cuts off his own husky words with a breathless moan, and Wes takes a deep breath, pushing down, down, until his chin is pressing against Angel's twitching sac, his nose buried in wiry pubic hair, his throat and jaw working to bring as much pleasure to Angel as he can because suddenly he wants nothing more than to steal all coherent words from Angel's mouth, and fill his own with Angel's come. 

"Fuck, Wes, I'm gonna..." Wes swallows convulsively, his hand and Angel's words finally pushing him over, and Wes has to drag his mouth off of Angel to cry out, hips twitching and cock jerking, spurts of his orgasm rushing out onto his own hand, onto the 300-thread-count Egyptian silk coverlet. As Wes is crying out, he dimly hears a low, strained growl from Angel, feels cool seed on his lips, in his mouth, on his cheek, and he moans, the sensation somehow managing to drag his orgasm on even more. 

When his body finally relaxes, Wes drops his head against Angel's thigh with an exhausted moan. His tongue slips out to lick at his lips, and he feels Angel's cock twitch again against his forehead. 

"Christ, Wes." A quiet moan from Wesley is the only response. They lay that way for several minutes, Wesley catching his breath and savoring the taste of Angel's come in his mouth, until with a groan, Angel sits up. Wesley refuses to move. Not that he could if he tried, but he's decided not to try, either. He murmurs contentment when Angel's hand brushes through his hair, then his finger swipes along his cheek, wiping a stray drop of semen from the skin. He holds his finger out to Wes, who immediately takes the digit into his mouth and ravenously sucks it clean. 

Angel groans, then pulls his finger away, lips twitching at Wesley's sleepy moan of disappointment. "Come on, Wes. Under the covers." 

"I'm quite comfortable here, thank you," Wesley mumbles. 

Angel ignores him, gingerly lifting Wesley's head off his lap, and turning them around so they're laying the right way on the bed and pulling the covers up over them. He turns Wes over onto his side and plasters himself against his back, wrapping his arms around Wes tightly, holding him. 

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

They wake some time in the middle of the night. Angel wakes first, and entertains himself by very gently teasing Wesley's cock until it's pulsing and thick in his hand. Eventually, it wakes Wes, who moans and presses his hips back, so that Angel's own erection slides up into the groove between his cheeks. Angel moans back at him. 

"When did I get naked?" Wesley asks, confusion winning out over lust. 

"I got bored waiting for you to wake up. Do you mind?" 

"Not as such, no." 

"Good." Angel runs his cock into that groove again, and Wes pushes back, loving the way Angel's skin has picked up the heat of his own while they slept, and now Angel's skin is deliciously warm against his. 

"How long did we sleep?" Wes gasps as Angel's fingers run the length of his erection. 

"Hour or two. Not long." 

"Then we've all night." 

"Pretty much, yeah. You good with that?" 

Wes hisses a breath, pushing his hips roughly against Angel's hand. 

"I think I could be persuaded." 

"Can I fuck you, Wes?" Angel rumbles. It's like a lion's purr, the way he says it, deep in his throat, honey-warmed and raising the hair on the back of Wesley's neck. 

"God, yes, Angel," Wesley moans, arching his throat as Angel presses a kiss to the side of it, cock caressing that warm, sweat-dampened furrow again. 

Angel reaches over him, to the side table, and Wes can't help himself; he swipes his tongue broadly across Angel's bicep, while Angel reaches into the drawer for a tube of what Wesley can only assume will be lubricant. Angel chuckles and pulls the tube out, staying leaned over Wes long enough to press their lips together languorously. 

It's surreal, to Wesley. Before, they'd been so rushed, so hurried, so wild in their passion to come together. This was almost...comfortably familiar. It was gentle, this arousal, and Wes could almost convince himself that there may have been feeling behind the sex. 

Another difference is that earlier, Angel had been particularly vocal. Now there aren't any words. Gasps and slight moans as fingers enter him, replaced by the thicker, blunter head of Angel's arousal, sliding deep and slick inside him with more ease than Wesley had ever experienced before. They lay on their sides on the bed, one of Wesley's thighs brought up as Angel slowly, gently thrusts into him, filling him over and over again. 

Wesley's eyes roll back in his head, his chest heaving as they move together, rocking slowly on the bed. The slow stretch-burn had been missed, but Angel seems to bring it to new levels that Wesley had never experienced. He moans as Angel's hand moves up and caresses his nipple, it's diamond-hard by the time Angel moves to the other one, and Wes can't do anything but writhe, under his fingers, on his cock, can't think about what's going to happen in the morning because right now Angel's inside him, filling him, touching him. 

Wesley's release comes as a surprise, rushing over him quickly and almost violently, hot seed spilling over the sheets as his body clenches around Angel, tightening like a vise as Angel sucks desperately at the skin on Wesley's shoulder, hips stuttering and pushing deeper, rougher, as his own cock explodes inside Wesley's body. 

Wes moans piteously as Angel pulls out, suddenly empty and ignoring the self-conscious shame as he feels part of Angel's release dripping out of him, sliding down the curve of his skin. 

"Wes, I..." Gentle lips across the back of his shoulders, nibbling licks and sucking kisses. 

"Yes, Angel?" 

Angel pauses. "Wanna go take a bath?" 

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

"Has it occurred to you just how entirely strange this is?" 

"Not much for baths?" Angel asks, using a rough-soft sponge to sluice water onto Wesley's chest. Wes sighs and leans more heavily onto Angel. 

"Not as a rule, no. Although, yours is large enough that I could certainly get used to it." He regrets the words as soon as they're out of his mouth. How can he simply assume that this will last more than this one night? 

"I think I like the idea of seeing you this wet often," Angel murmurs against his neck, and Wesley relaxes slightly. 

"Anyway, I wasn't referring to the bath, wonderful as it is. I was referring to this. You and I." 

"Does it seem that strange to you?" 

Wesley turns his head, giving Angel an almost incredulous look. "Well, I, personally, certainly never expected it." 

"Guess you weren't paying attention." 

Wesley waits. He doesn't quite know what to say, but he's hoping Angel's going to elaborate further for him. 

"We've been moving toward this for a long time. I thought you'd noticed." 

"I can't say the thought never crossed my mind, but I thought you..." 

"You thought wrong." 

"Why now?" 

"Got tired of waiting." Angel presses a gentle kiss to Wesley's shoulder, pulls him back to rest against his chest as they lie in the large Jacuzzi tub. 

"No, seriously, Angel. Why now?" 

"Things weren't as... hectic as usual. I thought it might be the right time. And, like I said: I got tired of waiting." 

Wesley relaxes against him for a moment, loving the feel of Angel's hands rubbing the warm water into his skin. "Were you waiting long?" he finally asks. 

"Long enough." 

After another few moments, "why did you wait?" 

"You weren't ready. Neither was I. There was too much other stuff going on, Wes." 

Wesley takes Angel's hand and presses a kiss to his palm with a deep sigh. "Do you have any idea what time it is?" 

"Four or five, I think." 

"So we've at least another hour before we have to go downstairs, then?" 

"I'd say so." 

"Excellent." Wes takes Angel's hand again and guides it down to his half-erect penis. Angel laughs, low, and presses a gentle kiss against the side of Wesley's neck.


	5. Chapter 5

Wesley insists that they take the elevator separately. His plan is to go down first, early, when there's hardly any staff on his floor, and let Angel take a different elevator to his own floor. 

"Really, there's no call to invite gossip into our personal lives, Angel," Wesley insists. Angel stares him down for a moment, studying him, before finally giving a small nod of consent. Wesley holds back a relieved sigh and enters the elevator. 

The morning, by all accounts, is fairly boring. However, when Wesley sits just right, he can still feel Angel inside him. It gives him a pleasant shiver whenever he shifts in his chair. 

Just before lunch, his intercom buzzes. "Yes?" 

"Hi Wes!" 

"Harmony. Good morning." 

"Listen, Wes, Angel wanted me to call you and ask you to come to his office for a lunch meeting," Harmony rattles off. "He said that he checked with Jennifer and she said you didn't have anything on your schedule?" 

"That's right, Harmony. Did Angel happen to mention what the meeting was about?" 

"No, he just said it would probably take the whole lunch hour. Should I tell him you'll be there?" 

Wesley debates it. He's not sure it's such a good idea for him to be in close quarters with Angel this soon after their encounter. However, the idea of being in the same room with Angel has its merits. Such as being in the same room with Angel. 

"Yes, Harmony, tell him I can make it." 

"Great. He wanted me to order up some food for you, too. Got a preference?" 

"A watercress sandwich should be fine, Harmony. Thank you." 

He clicked off the intercom and sat back in his chair, shivering a little as the action stretched out his sex-sore muscles. He barely held back a grin. He wondered if Angel had an actual reason for this lunch meeting. 

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Wesley knocks on Angel's office door, nodding at the deliveryman as he takes his sandwich. The door closes and they're alone. 

"Hi, Wes." 

"Angel." 

Angel moves to his desk, and Wes goes to sit on the sofa. "Harmony?" Angel calls, hitting his intercom button. "Make sure no one interrupts us, okay?" 

"Sure thing, Boss!" 

Angel turns, and Wesley suddenly feels like a skittish deer in front of a Mack Truck. Angel's pure predator as he stalks toward the sofa, and he shakily places his sandwich on the table. 

Angel sits close beside him, and pulls Wesley so that he's almost on his lap. Their faces are close, but they're not kissing. Angel nuzzles Wesley's cheek, earning a sigh. 

"Missed you. All morning," Angel says, running fingers down Wesley's throat. 

Wesley whimpers. 

"I wanna be in you again," is murmured into his mouth, before Angel finally claims his lips in a bone-melting kiss. Wes grasps Angel's forearms, tilting his head back to deepen it, sucking gently on the tongue that's suddenly in his mouth. 

Angel presses him back on the couch, lying on top of him, already starting to remove his shirt. Wes brings his leg up, pressing the inside of his thigh against Angel's hip as Angel grinds down against him. 

"Spike, you can't go in there!" Harmony shouts from the hall, but it's already too late. Spike's opened the door, and is standing in the doorway, dumbfounded. Wes pushes Angel off of him, his face flushed with embarrassment, trying to right his clothes. 

"Spike, what the hell are you--" Angel's cut off as a sly grin grows on Spike's face. Spike suddenly whirls around and nearly bounds out into the lobby. 

"I won, you wankers!" he crows, loudly. "I told you all they wouldn't last till Christmas!" 

"What? Already?" comes Harmony's voice. Angel and Wesley share a look. 

"What the hell?" Angel asks, standing and moving toward the door. 

"You guys couldn't wait two more weeks?" Harmony accuses plaintively. "That's all I needed, you know!" 

"Two weeks...?" 

"For the pool!" It's said as though Angel should obviously know what she's talking about. Wes has figured it out, already. His face is burning. They had a pool going, concerning when he and Angel would... God. He doesn't think he's ever felt so humiliated. He sits back down on the couch. Perhaps he should use Angel's private elevator, go home, and never, ever leave his flat again. Yes, that's definitely the best course of action. He stands and heads for the elevator. 

"Where are you going?" Angel asks, and his face is still masked with hopeless confusion. 

"I thought I'd go home, drown myself in a bottle or two of good Scotch, and never come to work again. Ever." 

"Just...wait a minute, dammit, until I can figure out what's going on!" 

"It's obvious, isn't it? They've had a pool going. About when you and I..." 

Angel's face relaxes. "Oh." 

"Yes, oh. Now that my personal life is a matter of office gossip, my work here is done and I'd like to go wallow." 

"Just...wait, Wes." Angel closes the door, shutting out the clamor of the office divvying up their losses and winnings. 

"Angel, I..." 

"Okay, so they know. Fine. So what? They probably would have figured it out eventually, anyway. I was never very good at subtle." 

"I don't wish to have my personal life splashed about the morning memos, Angel," Wesley says, anger starting to rise in his chest. 

"Give them a week, and they'll find something else to gossip about. It's not a big deal that they know. At least now we don't have to try and hide it." 

"You don't get it, do you, Angel?" Wesley replies, a bitter chuckle escaping with the words. 

"Get what?" 

"It's not just now. When this is over, it will come up again, and it will definitely last longer than a week when that time comes. Scandal always lasts longer than simple gossip." 

"What do you mean, 'when this is over'?" 

"Well, it certainly isn't going to last forever. Can you honestly tell me that you were considering eternal romance, Angel?" 

There's a pause. Finally, Angel speaks, quietly. "The thought may have crossed my mind a time or two." 

That brings Wesley's rant up short. "Oh," he finally manages. 

"Look, Wes," Angel says, stepping closer and cupping Wesley's cheek in his massive palm. "You're strong, and independent, and smart, and sexy." 

Wesley opens his mouth to protest, but Angel cuts him off. 

"I've thought about you and me for a long time, and I wouldn't have gotten into this if I didn't want to stay there." 

Wesley's having a very difficult time making his mouth move to form words. 

Angel presses a gentle kiss to his lips. "Let 'em talk. They'll get bored. And if it bothers you that much, I'll fire them." 

Wes quirks an eyebrow. "All of them?" 

"If you want." 

"I don't, but...it's nice to know you would." 

"There's a lot of things I'd do for you, Wes." 

This time, Wesley kisses him. It's less gentle. 

 

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Wesley wakes up in the middle of the night, which isn't a particularly new thing for him. The difference this night is that he wakes up in Angel's bed. Angel's not curled around him, though Wesley vaguely remembers being wrapped in strong, cool arms when he fell asleep. He opens his eyes and gazes around the room. Angel's in his armchair, on the other side of it, with a lamp beside him turned on. He's sketching. 

He's also naked, so Wesley watches him for a few moments. 

"Angel?" he finally asks. 

"Wes. Hey. I couldn't sleep." 

"We have an early meeting tomorrow." 

"I know, but..." 

Wesley sits up, pulling the coverlet around his waist. "What are you drawing?" 

"You." 

Wes blinks at that. He knows Angel's an excellent artist. He's honed his skill over his long lifetime, and Wes has seen some of the sketches Angel's done in the past: Darla, Cordelia, Buffy, even the odd drawing of Spike chained and exaggeratedly gagged after a particularly annoying day. He's more than a little flattered that he can add himself to that list. 

"May I see it?" 

"It's not finished." 

"I can wait." Angel holds his gaze for a moment, then turns back to his sketchpad, drawing lines on paper. Wesley watches him for a few moments, then moves to the kitchen to get a glass of water. He crawls back into the bed, takes a sip, places it on the nightstand and continues watching Angel draw. 

Finally, Angel studies the sketch for a few moments, and places his pencil down on the table. He carries the pad back to the bed, crawling in besides Wes and wrapping his arms around him before handing him the sketch. 

It literally takes Wesley's breath away. The sketch is from Angel's view, earlier that night. Wesley sees himself, astride Angel's hips, head thrown back in ecstasy. Angel's put his photographic memory to good use; at the bottom of the drawing is Angel's chest, abdomen, arms, hands gripped on Wesley's hips as Wes rode him. Wes can see the muscles bulging in his own thighs, see his erection standing thick and hard against his belly, the base of Angel's cock where it's penetrating him. Wesley can still feel himself stretched around Angel's girth, and the sketch does the memory more than justice. 

The detail in the drawing is magnificent. The lines and planes of Angel's body thrusting up to meet him, Wesley's fingers digging into the hard muscle of Angel's chest. His neck is arched, straining as he works himself on Angel's cock, but... in the drawing, there's a faint line drawn across his throat. It looks like a scar, but a shadow at the same time, and despite the sheer eroticism of the picture in front of him, the mark gives him pause. He doesn't have a scar across his neck. 

"Angel? What's this scar, here?" Wes asks, his voice a little rough because even through his curiosity, the picture's aroused him. 

"Hm?" Angel asks, nuzzling into the nape of Wesley's neck. Wes points to the mark on the sketch. 

"This. I don't have a scar on my throat." 

"I guess there must have been a shadow. Earlier. I just drew what I remembered." 

Wesley wants to ask more, because something about Angel's voice isn't convincing him, but Angel swipes a broad tongue up to his ear, and the words are lost. He drops the pad to the floor, turning himself in Angel's arms, bringing their mouths together for a kiss. He's already forgotten his question.


	6. Chapter 6

Eventually, Wesley moves his possessions into Angel's apartment.   
  
"You stay every night, anyway, Wes," Angel tells him one morning while they're eating breakfast. Angel's drinking otter's blood, and Wesley is making his way through a bowl of oatmeal.   
  
"You have a point."   
  
"I just think it'd be easier. And...I'd like you to. Move in." Wesley smiles at the slightly bashful expression on Angel's face, and leans forward to press a light kiss to the corner of Angel's mouth.   
  
"I'd like that, as well."   
  
Wesley doesn't work as late, anymore, either. He's attuned his schedule so that it coincides more with Angel's. Instead of being in the office by five every morning, he comes in with Angel at seven, not stopping by his own office before the regularly scheduled morning progress meetings.   
  
"Is it just me, or are things kind of slow lately?" Fred asks when the meeting's started to slow down.   
  
"They always are around this time of year, Crumpet," Lorne replies with a smile.   
  
"Solstice, right?"   
  
"Works for me," Gunn sighs. "This means I can drown my ass in paperwork instead of having to be over at the courthouse."   
  
"Gunn has a point. We can be using this time to catch up, perhaps even get ahead of the game before the next crisis," says Wesley.   
  
"Things finally slow down and you guys wanna work harder?" Lorne snorts. "Figures. Come on, people! It's Solstice! Party time!"   
  
"I hate parties," Angel nearly growls.   
  
"Oh, come on, Twinkle Toes. Even you can take a night off to relax." Lorne looks pointedly in Wesley's direction. "In public, I mean." Wesley can't quite keep the blush from his cheeks.   
  
"I think a party would be fun," Fred admits, and Wesley's grateful to her for diverting everyone's attention.   
  
"I really hate parties," Angel says.   
  
"We could invite all the clients we don't hate," replies Lorne, his voice filled with a tone that suggests he's dangling a carrot.   
  
"All two of them?" Angel answers grouchily.   
  
"We could use the decent PR." Angel glares at Gunn.   
  
"And it'd give everyone a nice healthy shot of morale-boosting. I can do all the planning, Angel, all you have to do is show your pretty face."   
  
"Your party-planning wouldn't happen to involve insomnia again, would it? Because you're not making much of a case for yourself."   
  
"Yeah, that whole no-sleep thing was a little creepy," Fred agrees.   
  
"I promise I'll get all forty winks."   
  
Angel glares at his friends for several long moments. "Fine. But I am not dancing."   
  
  
  
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
  
"Come on, Wesley. Just one little dance?" Fred wheedles.   
  
"Really, Fred, I..."   
  
"Charles won't dance with me anymore, and Lorne had to take care of some punch emergency, and I really wanna dance!"   
  
Wesley sighs, and stands, and lets Fred drag him out to the floor.   
  
He lets Fred wrap her arms around his neck as they move on the floor. He knows he's not a good dancer, but Fred's laughing happily with joy, not cruelly, and he can't help but lose himself to the music.   
  
They don't stop gyrating on the floor through three songs, until Fred is breathless with laughter, and Wesley's earning a bit of a stitch in his side, himself. Fred's grinning from ear to ear, and it's infectious, so Wes is grinning back at her. The song's wound to a close, and Wesley's getting ready to kiss the back of Fred's hand and thank her for the dance, when her eyes slide away from his, to something over his shoulder.   
  
An instant later, there's a gentle hand on the back of his neck. "Mind if I cut in?" is rumbled near his ear.   
  
Fred grins, shakes her head, and bounces away from the dance floor, presumably searching for her next victim. Wes turns, and Angel's arms are already wrapped around him, as the music starts to swell; Wesley recognizes the song as Sinatra's "Embraceable You". Angel pulls him closer.   
  
"I thought you didn't dance?" Wesley finally asks, his fingers gently toying with the soft threads of Angel's sweater.   
  
"Missed you."   
  
Wes lets out a small smile.   
  
"Having fun?" Angel asks after a moment, fingers fanning out across Wesley's hips.   
  
"I think I might be," Wes replies, glancing up into Angel's eyes.   
  
Maybe it's the music, hopelessly romantic, or the lights, dimmed enough to set a mood, or the euphoria of a new relationship, but Wesley can barely stand to look at Angel; he's suddenly light-headed, and his heart thumps raucously in his chest.   
  
"Wes?"   
  
Wesley lets out a soft breath, which ghosts across Angel's cheek.   
  
Angel leans forward, presses the gentlest of kisses against Wesley's lips, and Wesley's lost. Their mouths meet slowly, softly, lips gliding together almost in time with the music filling the room, and for a moment Wesley forgets that they aren't alone.   
  
Angel pulls back, then, holding Wesley's eyes for long moments. His hand reaches up to cup Wesley's cheek, and Wes can't help but lean into the touch.   
  
Another quick kiss to Wesley's lips, and Angel pulls away, pressing his own cheek to Wesley's, on the side where his hand isn't.   
  
"This is nice," Wesley finally says, feeling he should fill the silence somehow. Angel's hand tightens almost imperceptibly on his back. His other hand steals away from Wesley's cheek, taking hold of Wesley's hand and locking their fingers together before holding those locked fingers against his own chest. He pulls Wesley close enough that his chest touches their hands, too.   
  
They sway, gently, like this for what seems like forever. Eventually, Wes looks up, and sees that not only are there other people in the room, but most of them are dancing the YMCA. He realizes the music's changed, possibly some time ago, and his face reddens. He happens to catch a glance of Gunn, across the room, failing to hold back snickering laughter.   
  
"Angel..." Wes says, pulling back. They've made fools of themselves.   
  
Angel doesn't seem to notice, or care. "I wanna be alone with you," he says, running fingertips down Wesley's cheek.   
  
After a moment, Wes nods, and Angel uses their still-clasped hands to guide Wes to the elevator.   
  
"Oh, thanks, boys! Happy Solstice to you, too! So glad you enjoyed the party. No, I didn't mind planning it all! No, no, don't you worry about a thing! I'll clean up the streamers! You go have fun playing hide the swizzle stick!" yelled Lorne across the room, bringing another deep flush to Wesley's face. Thankfully, the elevator doors close and he's left alone with Angel. Not a bad state to be in at all.   
  
  
  
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Up in the suite, Wesley expects Angel to jump on him, throw him onto the bed and have his wicked vampire way with him. He's only mildly disappointed when Angel pulls him to the bed gently, and curls up on his side behind Wes, pressing gentle kisses to the back of his neck, but otherwise just lying together. Wes wraps his hands around Angel's forearms, held around his chest. They lay there for what seems like a blissful eternity, Wesley's hands making small circles on the skin of Angel's arms.   
  
Eventually, the kisses on the back of his neck grow more eager, and Angel's own hands begin to trace lazy patterns down his stomach. Wes presses into the touch, then slowly wriggles until he's on his other side, facing Angel. He presses his mouth to Angel's, and they kiss languidly, Wes pressing his tongue forward until he can taste the inside of Angel's mouth. Their tongues slide together slowly, wetly, as Angel's hand teases up and down his spine.   
  
Angel's hand gently pulls the material of Wes' shirt until it comes loose from his waistband, and slides his hand underneath the thin cotton, until he can touch skin. Wes mewls gently into the kiss, shifting closer so that he can press his lower body against his lover's.   
  
Clothing comes away gently, slowly, until they're both naked, fingers exploring and caressing with dizzying tenderness.   
  
Angel's hand returns to his hip, over and over, erupting goose bumps in its wake as it traces the warmer flesh. Wes shivers lightly, running his thumb along Angel's strong jaw, down his throat, as his fingertips card into Angel's hairline.   
  
Angel pulls his mouth away, placing gentle kisses down Wesley's throat, across his chest, over his shoulders in no discernable pattern. Wesley sighs, running his hand through Angel's hair as he enjoys the sensations.   
  
Angel laps at one of his nipples, and Wesley's eyes lose focus slightly. Then Angel stops, pulls away slightly, looking up into Wes' face.   
  
Wes looks down at him, meeting his eyes.   
  
"Need you, Wes," he murmurs, fingers slipping down his thigh. Wes takes a deep breath before speaking.   
  
"Then have me, Angel." Another kiss, as Angel leans across to retrieve the lubricant, and slick fingers reach around Wesley's hips to press gently inside. A shuddering sigh as Wes bends his leg to give easier access. He pushes back against those fingers, already warming within his body, as Angel deftly stretches him.   
  
Finally, Angel presses Wes back, rolling him and hovering over him, more soft kisses ghosting across his face, lingering at his lips as Angel's gentle hands pull his legs up, opening him and slipping between his thighs. Wesley moans into his mouth as Angel presses in, deep, slow.   
  
When Angel's fully inside him, Wes opens his eyes. Angel's hands take his, lacing their fingers together and pressing the backs of Wes' hands into the bedding. Angel starts to move, long, slow strokes, and Wesley thinks he might stop breathing altogether, soon.   
  
The feel of Angel inside him is something he never wants to get used to. Every time, it feels new and foreign, filling him and stretching him and making him feel the most amazing things. Sparks shoot off behind his eyelids; his lungs are burning for air he can't remember how to inhale. Angel's moving so damned slowly, but Wesley's heart is pounding, his skin glistens with sweat as he struggles to find some grip on reality as his head floats. He's flying, now, dimly aware that he's coming, but too wrapped in the sensations that Angel's causing in his entire body to realize that his cock's exploding.   
  
He drags air into his lungs, neck arching as his muscles tremble with the force, legs tightening against Angel's hips as he keeps thrusting, starting to put more power into it. It's as if Angel's continued movements are dragging his orgasm out, so long, he's still trembling, still can't breathe, still gasping and seeing stars, and he has to moan out loud.   
  
"Angel...I...Oh, I love you." He wants to take it back, but Angel lets out a groan, thrusts roughly into him, and Wes can feel him pulsating, coming, jerking and writhing over him with more power than he's seen yet of his lover.   
  
"God, Wes, you..." Angel interrupts himself with a searing kiss to Wesley's lips, and Wes feels like he's drowning all over again, his skin tingling as Angel's hips continue to stutter against him with the aftershocks.   
  
Finally, Angel pulls out of his body, drawing out a tiny whimper, as Wesley's leaden limbs fall to the bed. Angel wraps himself around Wesley's body, holding him close enough that not an inch of space is between them.   
  
Wesley's breathing is slowing down, and he knows he's going to fall asleep soon, but he hears a low whisper in his ear. It's in Gaelic, which Angel doesn't know he speaks. "Tha gaol agam ort-fh�in." I love you, too.


	7. Chapter 7

In the morning, while Wesley is shaving, Angel comes into the bathroom and wraps his arms around Wes from behind. Wes leans into the embrace, letting out a small sigh as he pulls the razor away from his jaw.   
  
"Good morning, Wes," Angel rumbles against his ear. It brings forth a shiver.   
  
"Good morning, Angel. Have I ever told you how many languages I speak?"   
  
"I don't think it's come up."   
  
"Eleven, fluently, at last count."   
  
"Well, you're a smart guy," Angel replies, with a kiss to the side of his neck. Wesley smiles into the mirror.   
  
"Do you happen to know which languages are involved in that number?"   
  
"Sumerian?"   
  
Wesley leans back harder, pushing against Angel's chest. "Sumerian, yes. Latin, Italian, French, Kungai, are a few as well."   
  
"That's great, Wes. I love that you're smart. What does it have to do with anything?"   
  
"In my studies, do you think I never attempted to learn Gaelic?"   
  
He can feel Angel stiffen behind him for a moment, before the body at his back shakes gently in silent laughter.   
  
"So...not as subtle as I thought, then?"   
  
Wes puts his razor down on the edge of the sink, and turns around to face his lover.   
  
"I'm afraid not," he grins.   
  
Angel leans forward and kisses Wes. When he pulls away, he's got shaving cream on the end of his nose, which pulls a chuckle from Wesley.   
  
"So," Angel says.   
  
"So."   
  
Another kiss, and Angel pulls away to check his watch.   
  
"We've got at least twenty minutes before we have to be down in the office..."   
  
Wes grins, and whirls around. "I'll just finish up here, then." A few more swipes of the razor, with Angel's hands wandering across the front of his body, making his hands tremble. It's a definite recipe for disaster, and when Angel's fingers ghost across his erection over his trousers, Wes lets out a sharp curse.   
  
Blood drips sluggishly from the wound he's managed to slice into his throat. It's long, though not deep, running across the left side of his throat, just under the jaw line.   
  
"Shit, Wes. I'm sorry."   
  
Wesley hisses as he wets a cloth, wiping away the shaving foam and pressing the wound tightly. "It's all right, Angel. It's not very deep."   
  
He holds the cloth for several minutes, while Angel runs his hands up and down Wes' arms in a soothing gesture. Wesley doesn't need soothing; the wound really is superficial, but he doesn't mind the contact nonetheless.   
  
After a moment, he takes the cloth off, and the blood's already stopped, but Angel's looking at him with the most peculiar expression. Wesley can't place the mood he sees, but it could be any number of things: horror, shock, disbelief. Wesley wonders if the wound is ragged, because he can think of no other reason for Angel's facial expression.   
  
Wes turns to the mirror, and sees the mark. It's nothing extraordinary. Red, trying sluggishly to well with more blood, but not being successful. It stings slightly, though Wesley's felt much worse. Sharp, slicing, cutting, burning pain across his throat, so deep blood spilling out over his hand, breath escaping and gurgling when he tries to draw it back in.   
  
Wesley blinks. The sense of d�j� vu is already gone, and he's not entirely sure what it was for. It was almost a memory, but if it were a memory, wouldn't he remember it now? He turns back to Angel, who's studying him carefully. After a moment, when the silence is almost beginning to stretch out of the more comfortable boundaries, Angel leans forward and places a kiss on his mouth.   
  
"We're gonna be late."   
  
"Yes. I'll hurry, then. I suppose, when we come home tonight, we could--"   
  
"Let's do lunch," Angel replies with an almost feral grin. Wesley blushes, but grins back at the suggestion.   
  
  
  
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After lunch, Wesley has to go upstairs and change his shirt, after Angel accidentally popped two of the buttons from it. As he often does when he's alone, Wesley goes to the drawer where Angel stores his sketches.   
  
Wesley leafs through them, his cock stirring when he comes to the drawing Angel made the night the office found out about their relationship; his own body straining, riding Angel's cock frantically. He'd never thought he could find a picture of himself so erotic, but the way Angel draws him is the way Angel sees him, and Angel sees him with lust-coloured eyes. Wesley allows himself a small smile. He's about to place the drawing back in the drawer when something about it catches his attention.   
  
The shadow-scar that Angel had drawn on his throat looks almost exactly like the cut he'd given himself that morning. Wesley blinks at it for long moments, trying to convince himself that it's nothing more than a coincidence. Eventually, he's able to. Angel couldn't have known he was going to cut himself, and he couldn't have known where. Wesley blinks away his doubts, because that isn't possible. He closes the drawer and changes his shirt before heading back down to the office.   
  
  
  
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Wesley works late, though not on purpose. He simply loses track of time while working on a peculiar translation, and by the time he deigns to look at his watch, it's well after a time that Angel will have expected him up in the suite. Wesley smiles softly to himself as he puts away his notes; Angel will be up in the suite, pacing, but he won't come down to collect Wesley. He'll let Wesley finish what he's doing, as is his way. Wesley really likes that about him. He heads upstairs quickly; now that he knows Angel's waiting for him, he's rather eager to be with him.   
  
He watches blunt, wide fingers work for a few moments when he walks in the door. Not the hands of an artist, but Wesley has seen the talent in those hands that comes from a photographic memory and over two-hundred years to learn proper technique. Sketches have littered their room before, when Angel's gotten into a particularly nostalgic mood, and drawn everything his mind can think of. Some of those sketches are of Wesley, in various stages of dress and undress, but most of the time they're more painful memories for Angel; the women and men he'd called friends or lovers once, but had died somewhere along the line fighting the good fight.   
  
Sketches clutter the room again. A sketch near the ottoman catches Wesley's eye, and he bends to pick it up. He studies it for a moment, brow furrowed. It looks to be a fairly young man, perhaps a teenager.   
  
"Who's this, Angel?"   
  
"It's not important, Wes."   
  
"No, I don't suppose it is. I was just wondering who he was."   
  
"Not important." Angel snatches the rough sketch from his hands, stuffs it into the bottom of the drawer, and Wesley can see Angel barely resist slamming the drawer shut. Wesley decides not to ask again, compelled not to press Angel on the subject. But something about the tone of Angel's voice holds to the back of his mind.   
  
Angel's hands are heavy on his shoulders, as Angel slides behind him, pressing his cool cheek against the back of Wesley's head.   
  
"You worked late." The change in Angel's demeanor doesn't go unnoticed, but Wesley's wrapped in strong arms and finds he can easily ignore it.   
  
"I wasn't looking at the time."   
  
"I missed you."   
  
Wesley hisses gently as Angel nips the skin at the nape of his neck, his body shivering in anticipation. "Did you?"   
  
Angel turns him around and begins to remove his clothing. "Lots."   
  
When Wesley is naked, Angel allows his own clothes to be removed, eyes greedily taking in Wesley's form. Wesley moves to drop to his knees, but Angel holds his arms, holds him up. Gentle kiss to Wesley's lips, then Angel is kneeling, looking up at him with soft, brown eyes, broad, linebacker's hand holding Wes' heavy cock in his hand as he leans forward to gently lick the tip of it.   
  
"Oh, Christ," Wes groans. Angel's not done this before. Their relationship hasn't been one-sided, but this is something they hadn't gotten around to yet.   
  
Angel presses forward, takes Wes into his mouth, and Wesley can feel his knees melting. Surely he can't still be standing? Delicious sucking wetness around his cock, taking him deep, to the root -- yes, that's right, Angel doesn't breathe, does he? -- and humming something that could be a song but could also simply be sex noises, because Wesley isn't sure at this point, only that Angel's lips are wrapped around his cock, and he's wrapping his hands around Wesley's ass, pulling him, encouraging him to thrust.   
  
Mindlessly, Wesley can't help but comply, thrusting shallowly, but thrusting nonetheless, fucking Angel's mouth. He nearly does fall when Angel lets out a deep, lustful moan, and Wesley's eyes snap open to see Angel take one hand from his hip, digging in his dropped trousers, into the pocket and coming up with a tube of lubricant. Wesley expects Angel to begin to prepare him, but Angel tosses the tube, so that it lands directly in the middle of the bed, and continues to suck.   
  
Wesley's trembling, shaking, can't do anything but gasp for air and moan, and thrust in and out of the perfect channel Angel's created with his throat, but he can't seem to come. He's so damned close, so damned ready, but it seems nothing will push him over the edge. Then Angel backs off, eyes focusing on Wesley's face, which is red and flushed and damp with sweat, and Angel wraps a hand around Wesley's cock, stripping it with the force of his strokes, jerking him off as he twists his face into a smirk.   
  
That does it, and Wesley is falling, can't actually remain standing as his cock shoots, spurts, throbs and pulses, and hot, white stripes of come are hitting Angel's face, his chest, as he holds Wesley up long enough so that he doesn't hit his head when he falls.   
  
Wesley is panting, gasping, and Angel picks him up, depositing him on the bed, on his stomach. Wesley agreeably opens his legs, spreading them wide so that Angel can use him as he pleases; at the moment, he's far too spent to participate. But Angel's plans differ, and Wesley feels a cool, wet tongue at his entrance.   
  
They haven't done this before, either. Angel curls his tongue, flutters it and stabs it deep, never staying with any action for long enough for Wesley to adjust to it, and within minutes Wesley is writhing, cock reawakened and straining, as Angel feasts on his hole.   
  
Angel replaces tongue with slick fingers, stretching him slightly more before Wesley feels Angel's hard body cover his back and the thick head of his erection push, entering him easily. Wesley pushes back, wanting deeper harder faster, and lets out a harsh cry as Angel puts his full power behind each thrust, ramming into Wesley with delicious ferocity.   
  
Angel's aim is unerring, slamming into Wesley's prostate each time, until Wesley is a quivering, shaking mass of need, until Wesley can't not come, can't not scream as he comes undone, cock jerking wildly as it shoots all over the bed covers. Angel growls roughly in his ear, stutters his hips madly as he comes too, and Wes can feel himself filling with Angel's release.   
  
Wesley attempts to drag in air, lungs burning with the effort, as Angel collapses on top of him, then rolls them to their sides, careful not to slip out of Wes' body.   
  
Wesley can't even muster the coherency to remember that Angel can draw, let alone what he drew this evening.


	8. Chapter 8

Wesley wakes when he moves in a way that twinges painfully in his ass. He's not surprised; last night, Angel had been wonderfully rough with him, but now he was feeling the effects of it without the pleasure. He rolls stiffly onto his back, staring up at the ceiling, unable to wipe off the silly smile that's invaded his face.   
  
Angel's perched on one elbow, watching him. His face gets a goofy grin that would be scary if it weren't mirroring Wesley's own.   
  
"It's Sunday," Angel announces.   
  
"Yes? One would assume that Sunday comes after Saturday," Wesley replies.   
  
"It's Sunday."   
  
"Yes, we've covered that."   
  
"We don't work on Sundays."   
  
Wesley grins. "No. We don't."   
  
"So we don't have to move today. At all."   
  
Wesley's stomach growls.   
  
"Perhaps we'll try the not-moving later?" he says, hissing as his ass reminds him of its soreness as he climbs out of the bed.   
  
"You okay?" Angel asks, as always far too observant.   
  
"I'm fine. I'm afraid our activities last night have left me a little...tender this morning."   
  
"I'm sorry."   
  
"I'm not." They share a smile, then Angel follows Wesley into the kitchen. Wesley makes himself some toast, while Angel downs a cupful of blood. Angel moves his chair to sit behind Wesley while he eats, resting his head on Wesley's shoulder and wrapping his arms loosely around Wes' waist.   
  
When Wes finishes, they go back to the bed, and curl up together. Wesley sighs contentedly, chuckling low in his throat as his cock reacts to Angel's wandering hands.   
  
"My body used to have limits," Wesley grouses as Angel teases a gasp from him.   
  
"I'm all about breaking the boundaries," Angel whispers against his chest, tongue flicking out to taste his skin.   
  
Wesley lets out a sigh as Angel takes hold of him, hands stroking and caressing until he's forgotten he's sore from earlier. Angel enters him gently, taking his time. They fuck lazily, until Wesley's burning with the need for release, crying out for it, and only then does Angel allow him to come.   
  
  
  
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
  
"I don't think I'll ever have to wash dishes again," Wesley murmurs, using little cat licks to remove the sweet, brown Nutella from Angel's abdomen. "I'll just eat everything off of you."   
  
Angel chuckles. "Think I can get behind that."   
  
They lapse into silence as Wesley finishes off the rest of his snack. Angel tastes the sweet concoction in Wesley's mouth as he drags the man up his body for a kiss. He smooths a hand down Wesley's flank, fingers moving to probe at Wesley's entrance. Wesley tenses with a quiet hiss.   
  
"Too sore?" Angel asks, his hand moving to less tender territory.   
  
"I'm afraid so. I'm sorry."   
  
"I should be more careful."   
  
Wesley quiets him with another kiss. "No. I enjoy every second of our time together. I simply need more time to recover before we make love again."   
  
Angel kisses him. "I can do that."   
  
"We could..." Wesley trails off. He can't bring himself to voice the suggestion, though he's not sure why.   
  
"What?"   
  
"Nothing. I..."   
  
"Wes. If there's something on your mind, I want you to tell me."   
  
"I just thought that, since I'm fairly sore, perhaps we could...that is to say, I could..." Wesley's feeling flustered. He's not sure why; after all, he's had Angel's tongue in his ass. This feels much more embarrassing.   
  
"Wes?"   
  
"I was thinking, maybe, I could...take you? If you..."   
  
"Wes." A sigh. "Wes, I don't..."   
  
"That's all right, it was just a thought." Wesley wants to be hiding somewhere, alone, with a bottle of Scotch.   
  
"Let me explain, Wes. It's just...that's not..."   
  
"It's all right, that you don't want me to," Wesley interrupts again. "It's perfectly understandable."   
  
"Except that you don't actually understand. So shut up for a moment, a ghr�, and listen." My love. Wesley will never tire of hearing Angel's Gaelic endearments, he thinks.   
  
"Angelus is a cocky bastard. Big dog, alpha male, always gotta be on top. Always. And I... I've been with three people in a hundred years, including you. I've never..."   
  
Realization, and a little shock, and Wesley's blinking rapidly. "You've never...you're a virgin, Angel?"   
  
Angel gives him a sheepish smile. "In that sense, yeah. Completely."   
  
"I didn't...I didn't know."   
  
"Yeah. So, can I just say...not yet?" Wesley caresses the side of his face, trailing his fingertips down Angel's neck.   
  
"Whatever you want."   
  
They kiss slowly, languidly, for a few moments. Wesley pulls back as a thought occurs to him. "Angel? Does that mean...I mean, last night, we...you..."   
  
"When I sucked your cock?"   
  
Wes feels the object in question jump at the words. He lets out a breath. "Yes. Was that the first time you've..."   
  
"Second." Wesley raises an eyebrow. "I...maybe tried it once. For money. Before."   
  
Wesley lets out a soft snort. "I'd never believed in natural ability before. You've proven me wrong."   
  
"So how'd you get so good at it?" Angel replies, half-smile in place. Wesley kisses the curve of his mouth.   
  
"I went to an all-boys school," he says, kissing his way down Angel's body. "I've had quite a lot of practice, if you think about it."   
  
"I had no idea you were so experienced," Angel replies, shifting his hips up restlessly.   
  
"Oh, it's been years, since I've taken the opportunity," Wesley murmurs, blowing a soft puff of air around the head of Angel's cock. It jumps. "I feel I should practice more. Wouldn't want to forget how." He takes Angel in his mouth.   
  
"I can be your coach," Angel moans, fists crumpling the sheets. Wes moans his own agreement, pulling a shudder from Angel.   
  
  
  
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
  
Sometimes Wesley thinks the world isn't real. Things are too perfect for him; his life has been full of pain and doubt and hurt, and now he's floating and flying in a world of love and lust and filled with Angel. Consumed by Angel.   
  
He doesn't mind.   
  
Angel insisted, earlier, that Wes use one of his department's healing ointments on his sore entrance. He wants Angel to take him now, but Angel is teasing him. He doesn't mind that, either.   
  
Angel's got him tied to the bed. This is new for them; they've never played with bondage before. But Wesley trusts Angel, entirely.   
  
Angel's licking at his skin, leaving damp, saliva-covered patches that raise goose bumps as the air cools them. Wesley shivers.   
  
"I'd like you to speak to me," he moans, hands straining against the silk neckties that bind his wrists to the bedposts.   
  
Angel smirks. "Want me to talk dirty to you, Wes?"   
  
Wes drags in a shuddering breath. "Yes."   
  
"Want me to fuck you with words? Fill you and tell you how it feels, what I want to do to you?"   
  
Another breathless gasp. "In Gaelic."   
  
"T� d�il m� chuig labhair chiug t� mar m� gabh t�?" You desire me to speak to you as I take you?   
  
"Maith," Wesley whimpers back, Angel's voice setting his cock to leaking. Good.   
  
"Inis t� chuig d�ul m� bhad?" Tell you to suck my cock?   
  
Wesley moans, can't even whimper out the 'yes' he so desperately wants to answer with.   
  
"Labhair Gaeilge mar m� feisigh do fein?" Speak Gaelic as I fuck your ass?   
  
"Oh, Angel," Wesley moans, almost coming already, and Angel's sliding into him, lifting his hips and filling him, stretching him, making him see stars.   
  
"Sin m� bualadh craicinn." That's me fucking you.   
  
"Angel!" Wes cries out, cock jerking and spilling, as Angel thrusts into him, picking up speed.   
  
Angel lets out a growl, hips stuttering as Wesley clenches around him. "Wes! God, Wes... T�im ag teacht!" I'm coming.   
  
Angel collapses on top of him, reaching up to unbind Wesley's hands. He rolls, gathering Wesley close to his chest.   
  
"Ion�in Aingeal," Wesley murmurs. Beloved Angel.   
  
"Mo," Angel growls lightly. Mine.


	9. Chapter 9

Monday morning, Wesley has to go to Angel's office on actual business. He takes the elevator from his own office, and approaches Harmony's desk. As he gets closer, his sense of smell recoils. There's a horrible scent coming from her desk. He lets out a strangled cough.   
  
"Don't you love this smell?" Harmony asks, and Wesley realizes it's her hand lotion.   
  
"What is it?" Wesley asks, feeling vaguely sick from the odor.   
  
"Jasmine," she replies.   
  
It's a shock to his system. The word itself brings pain and loss, and he thinks he might vomit. He's dizzy, feels himself sliding to the floor, but can't reach for anything to hold him up.   
  
He dimly registers that Angel's stormed out of his office, and there's a bit of commotion. He realizes it's because he's on the floor, but he can't bring himself to care enough to try to stand. Angel lifts him, as though he's feather-light, and takes Wesley into his office, laying him on the sofa.   
  
"Wes?"   
  
"Angel..."   
  
"Wes, what's wrong?"   
  
"I don't...there was...there was a smell. Lotion."   
  
Angel storms out of the office, not bothering to close the door, straight to Harmony's desk. Wesley can hear him.   
  
"Harmony! What the hell are you doing?"   
  
"I didn't do anything! I was putting on my hand lotion and I..."   
  
"Get out of here."   
  
"What? Why?"   
  
"Get out of here, and don't ever bring that stuff in here again."   
  
"My hand lotion?"   
  
"The smell."   
  
"Jasmine?" Wesley feels another wave of dizziness, but he manages to stay conscious - barely.   
  
"Get it out of here!" Angel growls.   
  
"Hey, just cuz your boyfriend can't handle the smell of a nice flower--"   
  
"Harmony! Now." The door slams as Angel storms back into the office, straight to the sofa.   
  
"Angel, I don't..."   
  
"It's okay, Wes. She's going home, and she's not bringing that smell in here again."   
  
"I don't...I don't remember not liking that smell," Wesley finally says, struggling to sit up. Because he doesn't; he's never had an aversion to it before. He hasn't smelled it in years, but he doesn't remember ever having a reaction to it quite as strongly as this. He thinks maybe he might have liked it, until now.   
  
"You're okay, though?"   
  
"I am, yes, but I don't understand."   
  
"Maybe we should get you to medical?"   
  
"I think...I think I'll be fine. Perhaps...perhaps I've developed an allergy? Over time?"   
  
"That's probably it," Angel says. "That makes the most sense."   
  
Wesley wonders if Angel grasped onto that explanation a bit too readily.   
  
  
  
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
  
"It's just rain, Angel. And we aren't that far from home. We needn't call for a car," Wesley tells his lover. They've gone out for a long walk, and on their way back it had started to rain.   
  
"I don't want you to catch a cold," Angel replies, holding him close.   
  
"I'm not as fragile as that, Angel," Wesley reminds him. "It's Los Angeles. The rain is warm."   
  
"Still, I worry about you."   
  
"Because you're a mother hen."   
  
Angel growls and presses Wesley against the side of the building they're passing, grinding his hips - and hard cock - against him. "I'm nobody's mother."   
  
Wesley smiles and leans forward for a kiss.   
  
Which doesn't happen because they're broken apart by a scream nearby.   
  
They look at one another, and both take off running in the direction of the sound, Wesley struggling to keep up with the faster vampire. They reach an alley, where a young woman holding a wailing baby are backed against a dumpster by two vampires.   
  
As they enter the mouth of the alley, one of the vampires takes the baby from its mother's arms, while the other vampire clutches the woman. She lets out another scream, and Wesley and Angel bound forward.   
  
Angel goes for the first, to rescue the child, while Wesley attacks the second, freeing the mother. The fight is short, and when Wesley's letting the rain wash away dust from this clothing, he looks toward Angel, who's gently holding the wailing baby.   
  
A flash of memory, Angel standing in the rain just like this, wriggling pink baby held tightly and safely in his arms, and Wesley is dizzier than he's ever felt in his life.   
  
Speeding down a swirling tunnel, brain sparking and popping, clicking, as events are clicking into place, and suddenly, Wesley remembers everything. Tiny baby, blinding burning pain across his neck, a pillow over his face, the Beast, Jasmine, all of it, back in his brain as though it'd never left, and it knocks him over, off his feet, and Wesley doesn't even notice, because he remembers.   
  
Accusing, angry eyes turn to Angel. "What did you do?"   
  
Angel looks at him, sees the expression on Wesley's face. He looks caught, as though he doesn't know what his next move should be, but it's decided for him, as the woman rushes to his side to take her baby, thanking him.   
  
"Get home," Angel tells her, not taking his eyes off of Wesley. She doesn't wait for a second command, rushing off into the more publicly accessible street.   
  
"You bastard," Wesley chokes out, and it grates in his throat, he feels like he's been swallowing crushed glass.   
  
"Wesley, you don't understand--"   
  
"You don't understand, Angel! This is my mind." Angel definitely knows now. Wesley remembers everything. Every last detail of the past year and a half, everything that Angel stole from his mind. "This is the one thing that I... You took it away from me. All of it. You didn't even ask, you just--"   
  
"Would you have agreed if I had, Wesley?"   
  
"Of course not! Which is exactly why you shouldn't have done it!"   
  
"I had to."   
  
"You had to do no such thing."   
  
"Yes, I did, Wesley. You have to trust me.   
  
"Trust you? You lied to me. You took away my memories. And when I started to catch you out on it, you distracted me. With sex. You used sex against me, Angel. And now you're asking me to trust you?"   
  
"It wasn't like that."   
  
"Oh? It wasn't? When I found the drawing of Connor, did you or did you not immediately seduce me to make me stop thinking about it?"   
  
"I couldn't tell you."   
  
"Actually, as I remember, your mouth was working just fine that day. You absolutely could have told me."   
  
"I'd have lost you."   
  
It would have broken Wesley's heart to say the next words, but for the fact that his heart is already broken. "You have."   
  
It's like a slap across Angel's face, Wesley can see it. Can almost see the palm-shaped flares of red on Angel's cheek, in his mind's eye.   
  
"I don't understand."   
  
"You're surely not that stupid, Angel."   
  
"Not...not that. I understand why you... But I don't understand how. How you could remember. Nobody was supposed to..."   
  
"Does it matter?"   
  
"Yes."   
  
Wesley turns, walks out of the alley, not even feeling the rain anymore. Not feeling anything but betrayal.


	10. Chapter 10

"There's nothing to talk about, Angel," Wesley tells him, arms crossed as he stands in Angel's office doorway. Angel called him here, insisting they had to talk about what happened. Wesley disagrees.   
  
"Sit down, Wes. We need to--"   
  
"There is no 'we', Angel. Not any longer."   
  
"Let me explain."   
  
"Explain what? How I'm supposed to trust you? When you stole my fucking mind?" Wesley can't keep the pain, the anger, the contempt out of his voice.   
  
"You weren't supposed to find out," Angel replies.   
  
Wesley lets out a harsh bark of bitter laughter. "No, I don't suppose I was. I was supposed to trust you blindly, is that it? While you molded my mind to suit your needs?"   
  
"It wasn't..."   
  
Wesley is tired. He doesn't want to have this argument. He wants to go upstairs and pack his things, get out, once and for all. Get out of Angel's life, like he did before. Like he didn't remember. Knowing now, it makes him dizzy, and he sits heavily on Angel's sofa.   
  
"You took that away from me, Angel. My past. Gone, just like that, with the snap of your fingers, so I didn't know any better than to trust you."   
  
"You can trust me," Angel replies.   
  
"Trust you? Trust you? You stole my mind. You tried to kill me! You bloody well--" Wesley's rant is cut off as the air in the office seems to wink, just for an instant, like the lights have flickered.   
  
"You rang?" she says, bored, suddenly in the room. Immediately, Angel's in front of her, leaning in, menacing, as though he'd like nothing more than to slam her against a wall, but being that he can't actually touch her, he's settling for taking as intimidating a stance as possible.   
  
"What are you doing here?" he growls.   
  
"Wesley's memory woke up; that was my wake up call. Think of me as your Svengali."   
  
"What the fuck did you do?"   
  
"What do you mean?" Lilah asks him, head cocked slightly to the right.   
  
"He remembers. Wesley remembers."   
  
Lilah nods sagely, as though she were expecting that to be the explanation. "Probably has something to do with the loophole I gave him." It's in a mocking tone, one eyebrow quirked slightly as she fights back a small smile.   
  
If anything, Angel's stature becomes more intimidating.   
  
"What loophole?" he grits out behind clenched teeth.   
  
She turns to Wesley, who's sitting on the sofa, looking emotionally battered and bruised.   
  
"Why'd you do it, Lilah?"   
  
She turns back to Angel. "Maybe I just wanted to mess with you one last time."   
  
"Why?" Wesley asks, standing.   
  
Lilah seems to think on it for a moment, glancing at Angel, then back again. "You deserve to know what kind of man you are; good and bad. And why."   
  
Wesley sits down again.   
  
"How?" from Angel.   
  
Lilah shrugs.   
  
"I made that deal with the Senior Partners. Not you. How'd you make the loophole?"   
  
"What are they going to do? Fire me? Send me to Hell? Shaking in my Blahniks."   
  
"They could have found a way to punish you," Wesley replies.   
  
She turns back to Wesley, and her face softens almost imperceptibly. "It was worth it, either way."   
  
"How did you go behind their backs, Lilah? They're a hell of a lot more powerful than you. They wouldn't have let you get away with it in the first place."   
  
Lilah snorts delicately. "What, you think the Senior Partners are the only ones who make deals with devils?"   
  
"What did you give up?"   
  
Lilah turns back to Wes at the question before turning a defiant glance on Angel. "What it took."   
  
There's a moment of silence. "What set it off?" Wesley finally asks, eyes finally meeting hers.   
  
Another shrug. "Time. Sense memory."   
  
"Sense memory?" Angel asks.   
  
Lilah ignores him, keeping her eyes on Wesley. "When you cut yourself shaving? The sketch of Connor, the smell of jasmine bothering you, the baby in the rain, all sense memory. The memories stayed in you. Angel's spell just put them to sleep; I woke them up." She walks away from Angel, standing in front of Wes, her hand up in a ghostly mockery of sliding across his cheek.   
  
"I wanted to show you, we weren't so different. You wouldn't have remembered why if I hadn't."   
  
"You didn't love me." Not a question.   
  
"No less than you loved me."   
  
"It's bullshit." Wes and Lilah turn to look at Angel at the outburst. "She didn't want to show you anything. This was all just to turn you against me."   
  
"I couldn't have known he was going to start fucking you," Lilah scoffs. "For once, Angel, it's not all about you."   
  
"What did you give up?" Wesley asks again, and Lilah turns back to him with a sigh.   
  
"This, right now? This is it for me."   
  
"What do you mean?"   
  
"I don't get to come back. You can summon me, you can subpoena me, it doesn't matter. I don't get to know what you're doing, how you are, where you are, anything. The mystical post office is no longer delivering to my P.O. Box."   
  
Wesley takes a few moments to digest this. "You're to sever any and all contact with the world, then? That was your sacrifice."   
  
"That about covers it. Which is why Angel knows I'm not screwing with him. I wouldn't give up the chance to watch him squirm." She glances at the clock on the wall. "Speaking of which, my train's leaving."   
  
"Lilah..."   
  
"Don't worry about it, Wes." Another ghostly almost-caress, and she's gone.   
  
"So now what?" Angel asks after a few minutes of tense silence.   
  
Wesley whirls around, fire in his eyes.   
  
"Now I leave."   
  
"Wes, can't we talk about it?"   
  
"More talk about trust, Angel?"   
  
"Look, Wes, I understand..."   
  
"Do you really? You ask me to trust you, to trust that you knew what was best, but you don't trust me, do you, Angel?"   
  
"I..."   
  
"No, you don't. You didn't trust me enough to let me remember the past." Wesley's face pales slightly as he realizes more. "That's why you wouldn't let me fuck you, isn't it? Because you don't trust me. After everything that happened, you don't trust me, but you expect me to trust you now? I know what happened last year. I know just how well I can trust you."   
  
"You didn't see him, Wes. Before...he was going to kill people. He was going to kill Cordelia, himself, innocents, because he couldn't live in my world. I had to let him out. He was my son."   
  
"Did you kill him?" Wesley wonders why he dreads the answer to this question.   
  
"Yes."   
  
Oh, that's the answer.   
  
"And then you made everyone forget him."   
  
"And gave him a new life. With a real family, where he didn't grow up in Quar-toth, where he's going to college. Nobody remembers him because he no longer exists."   
  
Wesley digests this.   
  
"And you've always known."   
  
"Yes."   
  
"Then why?" Wesley asks. Angel stares at him for a long moment, until Wes elaborates. "Why did...with me?"   
  
Angel sits on the sofa beside him, reaches for Wesley's hand. Wesley pulls it away. He can't let Angel touch him.   
  
"Mo gr�..."   
  
"Stop it. Just tell me why."   
  
"Because I got over it."   
  
"You got over it?"   
  
"Look, Wes, we had our differences. But I can look past them, and love you. Why can't you do the same?"   
  
"You stole--"   
  
Angel cuts him off by taking the same posture as he had when Lilah showed up. "You stole my son!"   
  
Wesley doesn't flinch back. He raises his eyebrows. "Over it, are we?"   
  
"I forgave you."   
  
"Well, Angel, you've also had several more months than I have to do so. And as I recall, I had my reasons."   
  
"Which I didn't know, when I tried to..."   
  
"Say it, Angel. When you tried to kill me. Everything I did, I did out of love. I thought you were going to kill him. Which, as I know now, wasn't wrong."   
  
"Wesley, I..."   
  
"Stop, Angel. It's over. I won't do this." Wesley stands, moves toward the door. He knows he's walking out of Angel's life forever; it hurts.   
  
"Wesley... Do you love me?"   
  
Wesley stops at the door, but can't turn around. "I love you, Angel. But I can't trust you, and I can't ever forgive you."   
  
He walks out.


	11. Chapter 11

Wesley straps his retractable blade onto his wrist, making sure it's snug and concealed, before leaving his flat and going out into the cool Italian night. 

He's been in Rome for almost a year now, doing his part to keep the demonic population down. He knows he's not the only person in the city working at such a goal, but it's a large city and he doesn't expect to run into anyone he knows. 

Which is why, after destroying a nest of vampires in the catacombs, the voice behind him startles him. 

"My timing sucks." 

Wesley whirls around, and there she is. Blonde hair shorn up to her ears, now, but unmistakable all the same: Buffy Summers. 

"Buffy." 

"Wesley? Wesley Wyndam-Pryce?" 

"Last I checked, yes," Wesley replies. Is he really so unrecognizable? 

"Willow wasn't kidding when she said you went all Han Solo." She gives him a wary smile. 

"I...like your hair." He blinks. Did he really just say that? He must be more thrown that he'd thought. 

He turns to the mouth of the cave, moving out, as Buffy falls into step beside him. 

"So. Whatcha doin in Rome?" 

"Passing the time," Wesley replies. 

"Yeah? How's Angel?" 

Wesley's step falters only marginally, but Buffy's been in this business for a long time, and it doesn't escape her notice. 

She stops walking, a hand on Wesley's arm to stop him as well. He tries to avoid her eyes, but she holds him there until he has to meet them. 

She stares at him for a long moment, then lets out a delicate snort. "I know that look." 

Wesley drops his eyes again. "I don't know what you're--" 

"I invented that look, Wesley. Welcome to the Hearts Broken By Angel club. You can be secretary." 

Wesley doesn't say anything, but Buffy lets go of his arm, so he begins walking again. 

"How long's it been?" she asks after another few moments. 

"Almost a year. Since I last saw him." 

"Yeah? What'd he do?" 

Wesley entertains the idea of lying to her. "Raped my mind of the memories of an entire year, including trying steal his son and subsequently almost being murdered twice in one night." 

"Neat," Buffy replies. 

They walk in silence for a moment. "Okay, I'm trying to be all sage and cool and unneeding of the gossip, but I think you're gonna have to be a bit more specific." 

Wesley sighs, and tells her the entire sordid tale. By the end of it, they're sitting in his kitchen, drinking their third cup of espresso. 

"So. Long story, then." 

"Essentially." 

They talk shop for a while; interesting demons in the area, some of Buffy's more interesting tales of slaying, some of Wesley's. Buffy tells Wesley how the new Council is working out, with Giles at the head, and how Dawn is doing at school. Wesley listens, interjecting his own comments here and there. 

It's after three in the morning when Buffy's mobile phone rings. She looks at the caller ID screen. "Oh. Crap." 

Wesley raises an eyebrow as Buffy touches the keypad with her thumb, bringing the phone to her ear. 

"Hi, Dawnie." 

Wesley can hear young Dawn screaming through the phone. "What the hell are you doing not dead?! You made me worry." 

Buffy looks at the clock on the wall of Wesley's kitchen. 

"Dawnie, I'm sorry, I didn't realize what time it was. I'll be home soon, okay?" She hangs up the phone with an apologetic glance at Wesley. 

"Past my curfew," she says. 

"I'll walk you out." Wes follows to the door, opening it chivalrously for her. As she's stepping through the frame, she smacks him, fairly hard, on the upper arm. 

Wesley flinches; she's still got all her strength. "What was that for?" 

Buffy grins at him. "That's for stealing my boyfriend. Tell him I said 'hi'," she replies, and then she's gone, strolling down his walkway. Wesley blinks after her until she's out of sight, before quietly closing the door. 

He won't tell Angel she's sent greetings, because he won't see Angel. He won't see Angel ever again. 

But over the next two weeks, he can't stop thinking about the vampire. Every thought he has belongs to Angel. Finally, he has to admit it. He misses his lover. Perhaps he could...but no, he can't. He can't go back. His pride won't allow it. 

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

"Wesley? Oh my God, Wes!" shrieks Harmony, as Wesley steps into the lobby. She jumps out from behind her desk, arms wrapping around him like a crushing steel vise, making his bones creak. 

"Hello, Harmony," he says quietly when she finally lets him go. Suddenly, Angel's office door is swung open, and Angel's standing there, looking as wonderful as Wesley knew he would, and Wesley has to convince himself not to run to him. Angel isn't the reason he's here. 

"Wes?" Angel asks, voice full of confusion, wonder, disbelief. "What are you...?" 

Wesley turns to Harmony, whose face is instantly a mask of contrition. "Ooh. Um...sorry, Boss. I...was supposed to tell you. Wes is coming to borrow some of the books." 

Angel blinks for a moment, and Wesley can see his face fall slightly. "Oh." 

Wesley's only marginally glad that he can still bring about a reaction like that. But it's not why he's here. 

"There's a prophecy." 

"Another one of those kicking around, huh?" Angel replies, and Wesley can tell he's uncomfortable. He's okay with that. Wesley's uncomfortable too. 

They stand in silence for a while. 

"So. Books," Angel finally says, eyes boring into Wesley's, and it's making him even more uncomfortable. 

"Yes. I've been trying to translate a prophecy, and I'm afraid half of it isn't available anywhere but here. I was hoping I would be able to finish the translations here." 

"Yeah. Of course, Wes," Angel says, quickly, putting his hands in his pockets. "Anything you need." 

Wesley needs a moment to make his feet move, heading toward the elevator. Angel follows him. "I should...come with you. Let the new department head know..." Wesley nods. 

They step into the elevator, and Angel pushes the button for the correct floor. 

"So. How've you been?" Angel asks him after a moment. 

"Well, thank you," Wesley replies. A beat. "And yourself?" 

"Can't complain." 

Wesley's almost surprised to realize he's glad. He knows he's supposed to hate Angel, after what happened, but... He can't quite feel as venomous as he should. As he did. 

The rest of the ride is quiet, with only Wesley's carefully measured breathing filling the heavy silence. They get off when the doors open, Angel leading the way to what used to be Wesley's office. He raps his knuckles against the frame of the open door. 

"Raimo?" The short, balding man glances up from his desk. 

"Yes, Mr. Angel?" he says, and Wesley recognizes his accent as Finnish. 

"I have a...friend here, who needs to use one of the templates. That okay by you?" 

"Of course, Mr. Angel," Raimo replies, standing up and coming around the desk to meet them at the shelf containing the template books. 

"I'll just...I have...there's work I have to do," Angel stutters out, retreating from the office, leaving Wesley alone with Raimo. 

"Raimo Helminen," he says, holding out his hand for Wesley to shake. Wesley holds out his own. 

"Wesley Wyndam-Pryce," he replies stiffly. Raimo looks up, and Wesley can tell the man's recognizing his name. 

"Then I needn't show you how to use them properly, yes?" 

"No, I haven't forgotten. Thank you." 

"You may use this table here, if you like," Raimo tells him, gesturing to the small conference table nearby. Wesley nods, taking one of the templates from the shelf and sitting down. He opens his briefcase, and starts to work. 

With the use of the templates, it only takes him an hour to finish the translation he'd needed. He finds he's rather relieved that the 'fall of man' refers to a harmless meteor shower this coming autumn, and not the end of the world, as he'd feared. He stands with a stretch. 

"Wes!" 

Wesley jumps, startled, glances at the door, and sees Gunn there, grinning from ear to ear. "Heard you were in the building, English," Gunn says. "Come on. You and me are going out for lunch." 

Wesley gives Gunn a small smile. Gunn doesn't remember that they aren't really friends anymore, but it's not Wesley's place to tell him the truth. He's not sure that he should. He's started to wonder, over the past year, if he was better off not knowing as well. 

"Gunn. How are you?" Wesley finds pleasantries are simpler with anyone who isn't Angel. 

"We'll catch up while we're having lunch. Put the books away." 

Wesley smiles, and this time it's more genuine. "All right. I believe I've finished here anyway." 

"Never was anybody that could translate faster than you," Gunn grins, then turns a hasty glance at the Finn across the room. "No offense, Raimo." 

"None taken, Mr. Gunn," Raimo replies, though Wesley's fairly sure the man's lying. 

Wesley lets Gunn lead him to the elevators after a nod of gratitude to Raimo, and down into the parking garage. 

They get into Gunn's Mercedes Benz, and Gunn grins sheepishly when the score of Annie: The Musical blares from the radio. He turns it down, pointedly ignoring Wesley's curved eyebrow. 

They make small talk, about several interesting cases Gunn has worked on in the past year, some of the demons Wesley's fought while in Europe, and Wesley knows it's not unlike the conversation he had with Buffy. Catch-up to soften the blow of the real conversation, which Wesley knows is coming. 

When their meals are served, he's not disappointed. 

"So, Wes... what happened?" 

Wesley waits for the elaboration, though he knows what Gunn is asking. 

"With you and Angel." 

Wesley may have been expecting the question, but he still hasn't managed to come up with a suitable answer. 

"We ended our relationship, Gunn." 

"Well, yeah, obviously, with the Houdini act, but why?" 

"These things happen." 

Gunn snorts derisively. "You guys were happy. So happy I'd emailed Willow to ask her about the clause in Angel's curse, and I was getting ready to push it through Contracts." 

That gives Wesley pause, but Gunn doesn't stop. 

"There was no trouble in paradise, and then all of a sudden, you were gone and Angel was brooding twenty-four seven. And as your friend, I wanna know why." 

Wesley doesn't laugh, though it almost escapes. As his friend, indeed. But Gunn doesn't remember, so Wesley keeps it to himself. 

"What happened between Angel and I is our business, Charles. Our relationship ended, and it's for the best." 

Gunn studies him for a long time. "Fine. Whatever. But you know I'm here, if you need to talk?" 

Wesley wishes he could. "Thank you, Gunn, but I've had time to come to terms with it. I'm fine." 

Gunn hesitates before nodding. Wesley wonders if Gunn knows he's lying.


	12. Chapter 12

Gunn convinces him to stay in Los Angeles for at least another day, if only to reacquaint himself with his friends in the office. Wesley's only partially dreading it. He has missed them, but he wonders if he can look them in the eyes after knowing what he does. 

"If it isn't everybody's favorite runaway!" Lorne cries when Gunn ushers Wesley into the meeting room. Wesley feels himself blush. Luckily, Lorne and Gunn are the only people in the room. 

"Lorne," Wesley greets him, with a smile. 

"Oh, damn. I left some files in my office. I'll be back in a minute," Gunn says, heading back out the door. 

"What's up, Buttercup?" Lorne says. 

"The usual; there was a prophecy, I translated it." 

"Par for the course." Lorne's face takes on a puzzled expression. "I know I wanted to ask you something. Now, what was it? Oh yeah! Why the heck did you leave?!" 

Wesley sighs. "Lorne..." 

"Oh, no. No excuses, pal. Why'd you leave?" 

"Angel and I dissolved our relationship." 

"What am I, Helen Keller? You think I didn't notice the brood levels spiking into the red zone around here?" 

"Lorne, I don't think..." 

"What did he do? One minute it's hearts and flowers and groin action a-plenty, and then he walks around acting like you died!" 

Wesley doesn't have anything else to say. 

Lorne leans in close, places a soothing arm around Wesley's shoulders, his face open and sympathetic. 

"Okay. It's all right, Loverboy, you don't have to tell me." Wesley sighs in relief. "Unless you want me to start telling the story about how you really got that motorcycle."

Wesley blanches. How does Lorne know about that? 

Lorne shrugs. "You never should have sung 'We Are the Champions'." 

The door opens, and Wesley turns toward it. 

"Wes." It's Angel. His steps falter as he enters the room. "How'd your translations go?" 

"Fine, thank you. The world won't be ending this autumn." 

"Good to know." 

"Oh, look, tension. I'm gonna go get a knife to cut it. Maybe a chainsaw," Lorne says quickly, stepping out the door and closing it behind him. The action leaves Wesley alone with Angel. 

"So," Angel says uncomfortably. 

"Yes. Quite." 

"Look, Wes, I--" 

Wes can't let whatever it is that Angel's about to say be said. He feels he might shatter if he has to engage in any more polite small-talk, and he knows for sure that he'll break if the conversation turns to more serious, heart-breaking topics. 

"As I'm finished with my translations, I expect I'll be heading back to Italy in the morning," Wesley interrupts him. 

"Yeah. Yeah, I guess so." 

Silence. 

"Rome? Where..." 

"Where Buffy is, yes. I ran into her a few weeks ago." 

"How is she?" 

"She's well. She asked me to tell you 'hello' the next time I saw you." 

"Oh. That's...okay. Thanks." 

More silence. Wesley wonders if he's really drowning in it, or if it just feels that way. 

"I suppose I'll go back to my hotel for the remainder of the day, then. I'll book a flight for morning." 

"I...yeah. Okay. That's... Okay." 

"Thank you for allowing me to use the templates. And please be sure to thank Raimo for the hospitality of his office." 

"I'll do that." 

Wesley starts to move toward the door. 

"Wesley, I..." 

Wesley halts. Waits. "Yes, Angel?" 

Angel hesitates. "Have a safe trip." 

"Thank you." Wesley's heart sinks as he continues toward the door. He'd hoped...no, he didn't hope. He and Angel couldn't have a relationship. There was too much. But... Damn, he wants it. He stops before his hand even touches the knob. "Angel?" 

"Yeah?" 

Wesley closes his eyes. Lets out a breath. Turns back around to look directly into Angel's eyes. "Are you really just going to let me leave?" He could kick himself. 

Angel hesitates again. "Do you want me to stop you?" 

"I..." 

"I will, if you want me to, Wes." 

Wesley can't say it aloud, but he wants him to. Wants him to so desperately that he's afraid he might actually be able to say it aloud, might actually beg Angel to ask him to stay. Afraid he wouldn't be able to say no. 

"Angel, this can't..." 

"Can't work. I know." 

"There's too much..." 

"Too much in the past, I know." 

Wesley can't tear his eyes away, though, to leave. His feet won't move. He's stuck, exactly where he is, looking at Angel. He can't bring himself to leave, not yet, because this time he knows if he leaves he can't come back. 

Wesley's self-control breaks, and he takes a step. Away from the door. 

"Angel…" 

Angel doesn't move a muscle, as though he's afraid the slightest movement will send Wesley running, like a skittish cat. 

"Do you think we could have worked out? If I'd stayed?" 

"I don't know, Wes." 

"Do you think… maybe we could have trusted one another again?" 

"I trusted you by then." 

The admission makes Wesley's heart thump heavily in his chest. "Do you think forgiveness is what breeds trust?" 

"I think so, yeah." 

Wesley stares at him for a long moment. "Angel…I've forgiven you." 

Angel takes that in. "Does that mean you trust me?" 

"I…I don't know. I'd like to. But...there would have to be…terms. If we were to… It would have to be on my terms." 

"I run a law firm. We could draw up a contract." The corner of Angel's mouth twitches, but Wesley doesn't want to joke right now. 

"You would have to…trust me. Explicitly. No more… hiding things, or… taking things that aren't…" 

"I would never take anything from you that you weren't willing to give, Wesley. Not again." 

Wesley digests this. He leans forward, and whispers. "In for a penny," he says, and presses his lips to Angel's. 

Wesley starts the kiss gently, meaning for it to be brief and quiet, but the instant his mouth touches Angel's, he's lost, on fire, consumed. He lets out a moan as Angel crushes their bodies together, pressing Wesley back against the wall, hands roaming and exploring, relearning lines and muscles and flesh. 

Angel's mouth moves down, tasting Wesley's neck, his collarbone, trying to pull Wesley's shirt up, down, anything to get to more skin, as Wesley's fingers clutch at his shoulders. 

"God, Wes…" Angel whispers, pressing forward with his hips, drawing a gasp from Wesley as he feels the evidence of Angel's arousal meeting his own. 

Angel jerks back, panting, eyes heavy-lidded. Wesley blinks at him owlishly. 

"Wes…are we…?" 

"God, yes, if you'd hurry and undress me," Wesley moans, pushing himself off the wall to get close to Angel again. 

"We can't…this is the meeting room." 

Wesley stops. "Right. I should have…" 

"Let's go upstairs." 

Wesley doesn't hesitate, letting Angel take his hand and lead him from the room, out across the hall to the elevator. The doors aren't even closed when Angel takes possession of his mouth again, and Wesley dimly hears Lorne's voice in the hall. 

"Oh, thank God!" Lorne cries. 

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Wesley's pressed up against the wall of the elevator, dizzy at the feel of Angel's hands touching him, his arms, his chest, his back, his ribs, his neck, everything, his mouth being devoured and at the same time devouring, reveling in the taste of Angel. Angel, whom he's missed so much for so long, and he'd thought he'd forgotten Angel's taste, but it's just as wonderful and perfect as he remembers it to be. 

"Wes, God, Wes, I missed you so much," Angel whispers against his lips, and Wesley responds by pushing his hips forward, grinding against Angel's, bringing cloth-covered friction to the bulge in Angel's trousers. 

"Angel," he sighs, as cool hands find their way underneath his sweater, slipping past cashmere to tickle across his skin. 

"I couldn't stand it when you weren't here, Wes. I need you." 

Wesley tries to think of a response, but words won't come. Instead, he captures Angel's mouth again and tries to pour his gratitude, his voiceless apology, his own need into the kiss, as his hands tangle themselves in Angel's hair. Angel rubs his palm against the light stubble peppering Wesley's jaw, just as the bell for their floor dings and the elevator doors open. 

Angel pulls back, pulling Wesley with him so that they stay close, mouths still consuming one another, hands still wandering, as they move out of the elevator and into the suite. Angel pulls him all the way to the bed, pulls Wesley down with him, on top of him, not relinquishing his mouth at all as his hands move down to Wesley's hips and pull their hips together, dragging Wesley's erection against his own. 

Wesley lets out a harsh cry, trying to reach between them and get clothes out of the way so that their cocks can move together unhindered. He pushes fingers down into Angel's waistband, his fingers reaching and finding Angel's dripping cock as his thumbs work buttons. Angel's head falls back and from his chest comes a low, guttural moan. 

"God, Wes, keep doing that, I'm not gonna last. Missed your touch so much." 

"Then I'll keep touching you," Wes murmurs against Angel's neck as he pushes his trousers down, wriggling his own hips to push fabric out of the way. 

Angel moves to still Wesley's hands as they reach for his erection, holding onto his wrists gently. 

"I want this to last, Wes. It's been so long…" 

"And for me as well, Angel. Let's take the edge off, hm?" 

"Save the fancy stuff for round two?" Angel asks with a half-smile. 

Wesley returns the expression. "And rounds three and four, as well, I expect." Wesley leans down and kisses Angel again, licking the roof of Angel's mouth. Angel rewards him by releasing his wrists, and jerking his hips up as Wesley's hot hand wraps itself around his shaft. 

Wesley's thrilled at the feel of Angel's cock, hard and heavy in his hand; he's missed this, more than he'd realized, but now that he has it back again it's filling his head, bringing spots behind his eyelids. 

"Mo ghr�," Angel moans, his own hands moving down to release Wesley's cock from his own slacks, and Wes can't keep his hips from stuttering when that familiar hand closes around him, sending frissons of pleasure up his spine. "Mo muirn�n." My darling. 

Wesley pulls away, starts to slide down Angel's body, and Angel moves up on the bed to make the journey shorter. Wesley kisses across Angel's chest, pushing his shirt up to reveal cool, pale skin, pressing fluttering kisses against Angel's trembling skin. Finally he reaches his goal, and presses a gentle kiss to the tip of Angel's cock, earning a low moan. 

Angel spreads his legs, giving Wesley room to get comfortable as Wes takes the head into his mouth, fluttering his tongue across the slit before wrapping it around the head, pushing it under the foreskin, sucking and lapping at the dribbles of fluid that are gathering on his tongue. He pushes down, and he knows he's always been good at this, at holding his breath and relaxing his throat and taking the entire length into warm, wet heat, making Angel moan and writhe under him. 

Angel reaches down, slides his fingers into Wesley's hair, not pushing but holding, cradling the back of Wesley's head as Wesley bobs up and down, taking him in and sucking and licking. 

"God, Wes, remember the first time we did this?" 

Wesley moans. He remembers. 

"I wanna see you touch yourself for me, I wanna see you get off, just from sucking my cock. Think you can do that for me?" 

Wesley can't hold back a whimper, pulling off of Angel's cock and moving down to draw his tongue across Angel's taut sac. "No, Angel, I won't last, if I so much as touch it…" he murmurs between lock, full licks. 

"Yeah? This turn you on, tasting me? Sucking my cock?" 

Wesley moans and takes the length back in his throat, his own erection twitching at the sound of Angel's voice, the nature of the words it was speaking. 

"You like my cock, Wes? Like it in your mouth? Like knowing how fucking hot you look down there, sucking on me, moaning and looking like you've never tasted anything so good in your whole fucking life?" 

Wesley moans again, jaw starting to ache as he moves his head faster, a drop of his own saliva dripping down his lower lip as it moves along the underside of Angel's erection. 

"Want me to come in your mouth, mo ghr�? Wanna taste it? Feel it? Want me to fuck your mouth?" Wesley can't help it; the feel of Angel's cock in his mouth, the taste of it, the words spinning around him like twinkling currents of electricity draw him over the edge, and he knows he's ruining Angel's bedding, can't even begin to give a damn as he feels Angel's balls draw up, tight, feels the first throb and shudder and his mouth is filling, bitter and salt and copper and cream, and it's the perfect mixture of tastes, sliding down his throat as he swallows against the head, so focused on Angel's cock that he's only dimly aware of Angel, shouting, above him. 

Finally, Wes pulls up, away, panting, eyes glazed and blinking slowly, as Angel sits up, drags Wesley over and rolls him onto his back. Wesley lets out a ragged moan as Angel leans down, begins licking at Wesley's own cock, cleaning off the remnants of his own release. 

Angel moves up, presses their mouths together, and it's a soft, gentle, open-mouthed kiss, Angel's tongue slipping past Wesley's lips, tracing out the taste of his own come. Angel's hands run under his sweater again, cooling overheated skin with his fingers. 

Wesley breaks the kiss and pushes Angel's shirt up, pulling it over his shoulders, his head, eyes following every plane of muscle and flesh, even as his hands move to push Angel's trousers further down. Angel helps by kicking the offending garment from his ankles, so that he's lying naked above Wesley, propped up on his elbows as he takes control of Wesley's mouth again. 

After a few minutes, Angel stops, pressing kisses against Wesley's jaw line, pushing and pulling at clothing until Wesley, too, is naked underneath him. 

Wesley drags his hand down Angel's chest, gently rolling a nipple between thumb and forefinger as his knee bends, inner thigh skating against Angel's hip. His other hand reaches over, digging in the drawer of the table beside the bed, until he finally finds it; the tube of lubricant Angel kept there. He pushes it into Angel's palm, spreading his legs as wantonly as their current position will allow. 

"Please, Angel," Wesley murmurs, pushing the head of his revived cock against Angel's abdomen. 

Angel pulls up, glances at the lube, and appears to consider it for a moment. Finally, he shakes his head, pressing the lube back into Wesley's hand. "No, eann�n, I want… I want you to take me. Please." 

Wesley's head falls back against the pillows, eyes wide. He stares up into Angel's face, places a hand against his cheek. 

"Angel…are you sure?" 

Angel swallows. "Yes. Wesley… m� muin�n t�." I trust you. 

Wesley, after a moment, nods, and lifts his head to capture Angel's lips in a gentle kiss. It lasts an eternity, then Angel allows Wes to roll them, so that he's lying atop Angel's body, and then they're kissing again, soft and slow and sweet, as Angel lets his legs fall apart, and Wesley runs his hands up the inside of his thighs. Instead of moving higher, to the hidden opening there, Wesley caresses down the top of his lover's thighs, then back up, repeating the cycle over and over, soothingly, as Angel's muscles relax, as his tongue sweeps across the inside of Angel's mouth. 

Eventually, Wesley picks up the lube from the bed, opening it with one hand and coating the fingers of the other with the slick fluid. He reaches down, and runs a fingertip around Angel's hole, pressing a kiss to Angel's chest as he feels the puckered opening flutter against the digit. A few more teasing strokes across it, and Wesley gently pushes the tip of one finger in, inside the smooth-slick walls of Angel's channel. 

Angel hisses, hips shifting just barely, pushing against that finger, trying to drive it deeper. Wesley takes pity on him and presses in further, further, and begins to thrust it in and out, filling Angel with it then pulling it out, Angel moans, eyes closed. "Wes…More, Wes, please," he whispers, and Wesley kisses him again, pulling his finger out and adding more lube before adding a second finger, pushing them inside Angel's cool body. 

Angel's hips writhe again, a little more pronounced, as Wes pushes two fingers in, pulls out, pushes in, pulls out, stretching Angel slowly, carefully. 

Angel's still moaning, panting, as Wesley prepares him, and finally Wesley is finished, taking more of the lubricant and spreading it carefully over his cock. 

He settles himself between Angel's open thighs, and Angel tips his hips in invitation. Wesley meets his eyes, sees lust more than nerves, and guides the head of his cock to that slicked opening. "Wes…" Angel moans. "Please." 

It sounds like begging, and Wesley has to close his eyes as he pushes forward, slightly, feeling Angel stretch around him, and he slides in, slow, slow, slow, until he can feel himself fully enveloped. He can't move; surely it will be over if he moves, but he has to look at Angel, see his face, make sure he's not hurting his lover. 

Angel's looking back at him with wonder, his throat working convulsively as he tries to swallow or talk or breathe, and Wesley leans forward to press a kiss to those slack, open lips. Angel's hips thrust down, pushing Wesley more firmly inside him, and Wesley lets out a gasp. He's lost now, and he has to move, thrusting gently in, pulling almost completely out, repeating the motion as Angel's hands move up his arms, under his shoulders, fingers digging into his flesh as he moves with him. 

"Angel, I…" Wesley whispers, wanting to stop his hips, wanting to tell Angel he's sorry, he loves him, he missed him, he needs him, but he can't get his throat to work, and his hips are quite happy staying in motion. 

"You're so hot, Wes…God…never thought…so good inside me…" Angel mutters, hands moving faster, touching every inch of Wesley's torso he can reach, neck arched as he meets Wesley's thrusts. 

Wesley reaches one hand between them, wrapping it around Angel's straining cock, pumping the flesh as he moves faster, moaning as Angel writhes under him, brain dizzy with desire. 

Angel lets out a moan, and uses his strength to roll them, so that Wesley's lying on his back, Angel straddling his hips, writhing on top of him. 

Wes cries out, thrusting his hips up as Angel pounds down on him, head falling back against the pillows. 

Wesley reaches his hand up, grasping Angel's cock again, and Angel's hand closes over his, encouraging it to move faster. Angel pushes his hips down in an almost punishing rhythm, and Wesley moves his hand to match the tempo, unable to keep his eyes open as his back arches off the bed, feeling his cock encased in Angel's body over and over again. 

"Wes--" Angel gasps, and suddenly Angel's cock is jumping in Wesley's hand. Angel cries out, low and long, moving faster on top of him, and Wesley can feel spurts of come land on his chest and neck, and he feels himself rushing over the edge, as Angel clenches and shudders around him, air and sound catching in his throat, ears roaring as his hips jerk up, pounding his release into Angel's hole. 

Angel's body stays suspended above him for a moment, every muscle tight with tension, back arched and skin shining in the low light of the room, then collapses over him, drawing a soft sound from Wes at the impact. After a moment, Angel rolls to the side, and Wesley whimpers as his cock slides out, before Angel pulls him in close, so that Wesley's curled up against Angel's broader chest. Angel presses gentle kisses against the top of Wesley's head, and Wesley's body wants desperately to let the post-sex haze send him into unconsciousness, but he wants to stay awake, stay with Angel. 

"Wes, that was… God, I love you," Angel murmurs against his skin, and Wesley moves closer, practically trying to crawl inside Angel's skin, to be closer. 

"I love you too, Angel," he whispers into a kiss against Angel's throat. Angel rolls to his side, facing Wes, tipping his chin up for a kiss before once again wrapping his arms tightly around the thinner man. Angel settles into the embrace, letting go of his mouth and hugging him closer for a moment, then closing his eyes to go to sleep. 

"Angel…" 

"Yeah, Wes?" he asks, opening his eyes again. 

Wesley glances down self-consciously. "I don't…I don't want to go to sleep." 

Angel simply looks at him, waiting. 

"I've never been happier than I am right now, Angel. If I go to sleep…" 

Angel sighs, kisses Wesley's forehead. "Wes… go to sleep. We'll have tomorrow together, and the day after, and the day after that. I'm not letting you go again." 

Wesley kisses him, and it's desperate but not hungry, then leans his forehead against Angel's chin. 

"Sleep, mo ghr�." Wesley sighs, relaxes further as Angel kisses the top of his head again, and falls deeply into slumber. 

 

END


	13. Bonus DVD Commentary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This "chapter" is just the full text of the story with bonus DVD commentary. That was an idea inspired by thebratqueen back in the day.

**Okay, so, let’s get the info stuff out of the way. I’d gotten the idea of Sleeping Beauty in my head, for no reason, whatsoever, and it wouldn’t go away. And I wanted to do a Wes/Angel story. And I wanted to write about the mind-wipe. I threw all of these ideas out at the lovely spikes_heart, and she came up with the idea that Sleeping Beauty could mean that Wesley’s memories are asleep. So we threw some ideas back and forth, and eventually, came up with this story. Not very interesting, is it? No. I didn’t think so. *snicker* And the curse thing? Too much effort, because the whole story was about writing out my kinks. Which, actually, when I think about it, is pretty much EVERYTHING I write. I’m big on writing out my kinks. That’s why I write. To put them on paper/screen.**

�

Prologue:

He watches blunt, wide fingers work for a few moments when he walks in the door. Not the hands of an artist, but Wesley has seen the talent in those hands that comes from a photographic memory and over two-hundred years to learn proper technique. Sketches have littered their room before, when Angel's gotten into a particularly nostalgic mood, and drawn everything his mind can think of. Some of those sketches are of Wesley, in various stages of dress and undress, but most of the time they're more painful memories for Angel; the women and men he'd called friends or lovers once, but had died somewhere along the line fighting the good fight.

Sketches clutter the room again today, when Wesley comes in from the office after working late to translate a mundane prophecy. Mundane enough that it wasn't very important at the moment, but important enough in the future that there was no one else he trusted to do it.

A sketch near the ottoman catches Wesley's eye, and he bends to pick it up. He studies it for a moment, brow furrowed. It looks to be a fairly young man, perhaps a teenager.

"Who's this, Angel?"

"It's not important, Wes."

"No, I don't suppose it is. I was just wondering who he was."

"Not important." Angel snatches the rough sketch from his hands, stuffs it into the bottom of the drawer, and Wesley can see Angel barely resist slamming the drawer shut. Wesley decides not to ask again, compelled not to press Angel on the subject.

**So. Prologue. I actually wrote a version of this before I even brought the idea to spikes_heart. I had to change some things to make it work for the story, because originally I’d been thinking of just starting it here. I changed my mind, though, and decided to write it as a moment later on in the story. Sort of foreshadowing about what the story’s actually about. Because for the first few chapters, it’s just Wes and Angel getting together, before I even bring in the beginnings of the memory thing.**

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Chapter One

It's fairly unexpected when it happens the first time. Wesley's in his office, leaning back in his plush, black leather Herman Miller Aeron chair, trying to work the kink out of the left side of his neck and ease the stiffness from his left shoulder. He's been working on this translation for days, and he's remembering by now that making his eyes cross permanently isn't going to speed up the translation.

**Wesley’s translating. I love that. Also, the Herman Miller chair? I googled office chairs. What can I say? Not very worldly, over here. *snerk***

He's wishing he'd asked Jennifer to order him a masseuse before she went home for the day when there's a light knock on the door. "Come in," he calls, sitting back in his chair and wincing slightly as his neck protests it.

"Angel," he greets the enterer. His smile is genuine, if more than a little tired. 

"Still working?" Angel asks quietly. 

"I'm afraid so. I've yet to find the word  _carri-nikmar_  in any of the texts Wolfram and Hart has available, however."

**I HATE coming up with words and names that aren’t actually in the English language, and names that are for original characters. Seriously. No love for it. I’m one of those people who will misspell and add apostrophes to her last name to invent a demon. So carri-nikmar? Taken from my friends, Carrie, Nikki, and Mary, who I don’t think actually know they were the inspiration for this word. I think I was talking to all of them on IM at the time, which is why they got chosen.**

"That's a word?" Angel asks, coming closer to the desk.

**Well, no, Angel, I made it up. Which is why Wesley can’t find it.**

Wesley stretches his neck to the right, this time managing to hold back the grimace. "By all accounts, yes. Except that it doesn't appear to have a definition."

"Is it important?"

"Not terribly, but…"

"But you can't bring yourself to stop looking."

"I'm afraid not."

Angel gives him a half-smile. Wesley smiles back. He's comfortable with the fact that he and Angel have worked together long enough that his peculiar obsession about proper translation isn't seen as a character flaw.

Angel moves to lean against Wesley's desk, and Wesley bites his lip when Angel's behind wrinkles the corner of a page that's resting there.

**Don’t you hate that? When someone folds your papers? I’m one of those people who will happily sit on a sheaf of papers and fold and wrinkle them. You should see the pages in my shoulder bag. Seriously…I’m SO disorganized, everything is wrinkled and torn. I actually have an old paycheck in there that’s somehow been wet down, and won’t actually un-crumple. It’s beautiful.**

That's when it happens. Angel reaches out, and Wesley trusts his friend enough not to flinch back from the touch, and then Angel's hand is on the left side of his neck, and there's the most  _delicious_  pressure, for barely a second, and a feeling in the top of his spine that almost feels like a pop but is far too gentle to be such, and the tension is gone. Completely gone; no pain, no stiffness, no overwhelming need to see a chiropractor. 

**Wesley trusts his friend because he doesn’t know about the mind-wipe. I’m just saying. And I think Angel would know enough about anatomy, having ripped open a few bodies in his time, to know the exact pressure point to press. He’s like a sexy chiropractor. I wish I had an Angel to rub out my kinks.**

Wesley blinks up at him, and Angel gives him a gentle smile before standing, turning, and leaving the office. Wesley silently watches the door close and waits a full ten seconds before letting the air out of his lungs.

 

* * *

 

The next day, Angel appears to have forgotten the incident, so Wesley pretends that he has as well. Obviously it wasn't a big deal to Angel, so Wesley convinces himself that it's not a big deal to him, either. After all, Angel could likely see the stress on the muscles in Wesley's neck, and was doing his friend a favor. Granted, a little warning might have been appreciated, but the end result was favorable; Wesley's neck didn't hurt anymore, and without that distracting him he'd managed to find the translation he'd been looking for, which meant he'd been able to go home for a few hours of sleep before appearing back in the office.

**I constantly see Wes as a workaholic. Stays late, comes in early, never stops working. He’s just that type, you know? Plus, he’s all alone in his little (well, probably big) apartment, with no Angel to hump him. I’d stay at the office, too. Or, you know, just hump Wes myself.**

With no acknowledgement of the incident the night before, the day goes along as usual. There's a new threat to thwart, and they do so as efficiently as always, which is to say that it takes entirely too much time and there's one too many injuries on their side, but they manage to scrape by at the last moment without any real casualties save for the previously mentioned threat.

**Have I mentioned I can’t write action scenes? Seriously. Those and group scenes. I’m all about the one on one conversation. Or, you know, porn.**

Of course, by 'real casualties', Wesley isn't including his own back. He's walking stiffly, when they get back to the office, annoyed at himself for over-rolling and obviously pulling an important muscle. He manages to make it to his office all right, but when he moves to sit down in his plush leather chair, his spine protests so much that he can't actually move. He would very much like to be sitting, or preferably lying down, but his back has locked itself into a position that has him hissing in pain while he leans forward, propped up by his hands on his desk.

**Oh, look, there’s a kink! I feel like I should be doing a kink count, like The Brat Queen did for Strategy, but I can’t be bothered. But look. Wes is trapped bending over his desk. How is that NOT a kink?**

He's stuck like that for a few minutes, debating whether to risk falling while reaching to press the intercom button on his phone, when there's a knock at the door. He silently thanks a deity or two, and calls for the individual to enter.

"You okay, Wes?" Angel asks, stepping directly to the desk, already knowing the answer to his question as Wesley's tense eyes flick up to look at him.

"One would imagine that a man barely over thirty could roll on the ground without having to suffer back spasms," Wesley replies ruefully, pain straining his voice slightly. 

"Let me help you."

**And if I didn’t believe in story integrity (hahahahaha, I know, stop laughing), I would have simply had Angel reach down, push Wesley’s pants down, and do him right the hell there. Cuz Wes is bent over his desk! I cannot get enough of the idea of Angel bending Wes over a desk and giving it to him. Mrr.**

Angel moves and supports him enough so that he can stand with a not-quite contained groan. Angel practically has to drag him over to the sofa, and when they find that Wesley can't actually lie down on it himself, Angel simply picks him up and deposits him carefully on it. He turns Wesley so that he's lying on his stomach, and moves to touch his back.

"Really, Angel, I'm fine," Wesley says. "You don't have to…"

But Angel's hands are on his back, and Wesley remembers the magic Angel managed to work on his neck the day before. "I can do this, Wes."

"I think if I just lie here without moving for a month or so, I'll be able to get up," Wesley protests again, although Angel's gently massaging hands seem to be helping a little.

"Or, you could let me help, and you'll be doing the Robot in an hour."

Angel presses the pads of his fingers against the dip of Wesley's lower back, earning a creak of almost-pleasure from him. 

"I don't think I've ever done the Robot."

**Thank sweet God.**

"You must have."

"I'll never admit to having tried it. I never was a very good dancer, " Wesley replies, chuckling low in his throat. Angel's hands are  _amazing_. He seems to find just the right places to press, and Wesley can feel the pain lessening enough that he probably could stand, now, and even walk to his SUV and get home to lie in his own bed.

But strangely, he doesn't want to tell Angel so.

**Well, no. Because then Angel would stop touching him. We all agree that’s bad, right?**

"Not that you could call the Robot fine dancing," Angel says softly. "You should relax more."

**Mmm. Non-sequitor. Is that how you spell it? Whatever. The point is, I love that. It’s a kink. Because random thoughts are something I’m REAL familiar with.**

Wesley blinks at the sudden turn of the conversation. "I'm sorry?"

"You don't relax. Ever. You leave the office after I do, and you're here before me. And I live upstairs."

Wesley stiffens. "There are things that need to be done," he finally says.

"It isn't good for you. No wonder you've got so many knots back here."

**You know, I think this is another kink. Backrubs. Because I have this insanely annoying back and shoulders, and I’m constantly getting knots in the muscles. Anyone who’s ever touched my shoulders has said that they’ve never felt anything so tense. So the idea of Angel massaging the knots out of Wesley’s back just really turns me on. And wish, once again, that I had an Angel to do that for me. And if you’re wondering why I’m not saying “I wish I had a Wes…” it’s because I thought that was a given. The Wes-love is my trademark.**

Wesley moves his arms, and starts to push himself up.

"Done, then?" Angel asks, moving back and sitting on his heels as Wesley sits up, swinging his legs down so his feet are on the carpet. Wesley has to look down at it; Angel's eyes are far too knowing.

**Oh yeah. Angel’s a dork, not stupid. Show Wes a little care and you can HEAR the hydraulic doors slamming shut in the corridor.**

"I'm fine, Angel. Thank you. I believe I can make it home, now."

"Why don't you stay there, tomorrow?"

"I have work to do here," Wesley replies, standing up stiffly, wincing at the slight twinge in his back but grateful that he's able enough to at least move. There's a challenge in Angel's eyes, but he says nothing.

"I worry about you," he finally says, before turning and leaving the office.

Wesley's feeling even more dumbfounded than he had been last night.

 

* * *

 

The third time's the charm, which is a clich� but incredibly valid. It's a week later, and Wesley's knocking on Angel's door. Angel calls him in, already moving to the door and taking the thick folder from Wesley's hand. Angel goes directly to the desk, sits down and opens it.

"This is everything?"

"Everything I've managed to come up with about a leporid demon raising, yes. I wish it were more, but I think that's a fairly extensive overview. It should be enough."

**Look, another made up demon name. Now, this one….bwaha. I looked up the latin term for “rabbit”, which I then changed to “leporid”. This was my shout out to plot bunnies. The little sharp-toothed bastards.**

Angel skims over the file. 

"Is there a rush?" Wesley finally asks. From all accounts, the event won't even be plausible for at least several months. The planets have to be within a certain alignment, and some of the components to perform such a raising are impossible to find at best.

"No."

"Then is there a particular reason you've had me spend the entire day on this?"

Angel glances up. "Yes."

**Mm. Stoic Angel. Kink! Kink!**

"Perhaps you'd like to shed some light on it for those of us who haven't had the pleasure of living in your head?"

Angel sits back. "Because I know you Wes," he says, standing up and walking around to stand in front of his desk. In front of Wesley. "If I give you a project, you're going to spend the entire day working on it. You won't stop for meals, and you won't go home until it's either finished, or you're so tired you can barely stand."

"So you've decided to take up torture again, then?"

Angel steps forward. "No." Wesley stiffens, because suddenly he's hyper-aware of the fact that Angel's worked his way well into Wesley's personal space. "Mostly I just wanted to get you alone."

With that, Angel leans forward and kisses Wesley breathless.

**Oh yeah. That’s the stuff. Riiiiight there. Spiffy Da Wondersheep once asked me, “What would you say if someone asked you why you write slash?” My response? “Boys pretty.”**

Chapter Two

Angel steps back, and Wesley flutters his eyes open, dazed. He looks at Angel, and it seems that Angel is searching him for something. Regret? Anger? 

But Wesley's still too shocked to know even know what he's feeling. Angel just kissed him.

"Wesley?"

And suddenly Angel's entire demeanor has changed. He's spent the last week seeming more strong and confident than ever, but now Wesley can see the fear of an unsure little boy. It amazes himself that Angel can seem so innocent sometimes; 252 years not withstanding, Angel still doesn't understand everything in the world, and still questions. 

Strangely, Wesley wants to kiss the questions away. But he doesn't. Can't. Angel's...just standing there. Waiting.

"Angel, I..."

**It’s occurred to me that I have this SO much. “Angel, I…” Seriously. Wes can get out a coherent sentence, but apparently not when I’m controlling him. *sigh* Ah, well.**

Angel takes another step back. "I'm sorry. I thought..." Angel turns, moving to go back behind his desk, and Wesley imagines it as a brick wall that Angel's hiding behind, trying to put something between them that's more physical than the tension that's there right now. Wesley doesn't like that idea.

"I think...I think I need some time to think about this," Wesley finally says.

"Okay. I get that."

Wesley blinks, and after a moment's hesitation, jerkily turns and leaves the room. He makes it all the way to the elevator before his hands start to shake.

And he does think about it. Thinks about nothing else on the elevator ride, the drive home, his usual nightly routine of slowly sipping from a tumbler of whiskey while he reads the latest project roster. This evening, however, he's simply staring at the words on the page.

Because Angel  _kissed_  him. And God, Wesley liked it. He hadn't...well, no, he knew he'd wanted Angel. It was Angel. Wesley's admiration for the man had started five years ago, but he'd never thought...well, he'd hoped, once upon a time, but after Darla's return the first time, he'd realized that a relationship with Angel just wasn't in his destiny. He'd dealt with it, moved on, and now... Now Angel had kissed him.

**You ALL know Wesley has wanted Angel from day one, right? Right?**

Wesley gets even less sleep than usual that night. He can't stop thinking about Angel, and what that kiss meant, what it could mean, why Angel did it, if Wes himself reacted wrong, what would happen now. His mind whirls, and when he drags himself out of bed in the morning, he's come to no conclusions. 

 

* * *

 

Wesley goes to the office, and instead of going to his own office, he goes to Angel's office. Lets himself in, and sits down on Angel's plush leather sofa, and waits.

It's an hour before Angel opens his door, and enters the room. Wesley stands, immediately, and waits.

"Wes," Angel greets him, his step faltering a little. He blinks.

"Angel."

A moment, or a thousand moments, and Wesley takes the necessary amount of steps to meet Angel across the room. Another moment, hesitation and Wesley almost shrugs. "In for a penny," he whispers, and leans forward.

The kiss is shorter than last night's, but it's charged. It's fairly chaste by most standards, no tongues or teeth, just lips sliding against one another. Wesley leans back, and after a moment Angel smiles. Really smiles.

**I know, it’s Angel, he doesn’t smile. But if you were making out with Wesley, wouldn’t YOU smile? Cuz I would. So, so much.**

And that breaks Wesley's resolve to be proper. He practically leaps forward, capturing Angel's mouth again, and this time sucks Angel's lower lip into his mouth and runs his tongue along it. He feels the vibration rather than hears the sound of the small groan that comes from Angel's chest, and then his arms are caught in strong, cool hands and he's veritably  _dragged_  against Angel's body, so they're touching from thighs to ribs, and Angel's tongue is in his mouth, swiping at every inch it can reach. 

Wesley moans, and wonders when his knees are going to give out, because that's definitely coming next. The question is answered, however, when there's a light knock on the door. Angel jumps back, and rakes his eyes over Wesley, who, with a cough, straightens his shirt. Angel licks his lips, and Wesley has to lock his knees to stay upright, and the door opens.

"Hey, Boss," Harmony chirps with a grin as she enters the room. She's got a mug of blood in one hand and a sheaf of papers in the other, and glides across the floor with both, placing them gently on Angel's desk. She heads back for the door. "Oh, and by the way, Angel, you've got a meeting at nine o'clock with the Project Manager at Spalding Communications."

**Damned Harmony. Interrupting porn. Also, one of my dearest friends’ last name is Spalding, hence that being used. Like I said, can’t stand coming up with names.**

"Thank you, Harmony," Angel replies. He hasn't taken his eyes off Wesley's. Wesley can't help but stare back. The door snicks shut behind Harmony as she leaves, and Angel steps forward, obviously intent on picking up where they left off.

"Angel..." Wesley protests, taking a step back. Angel stops. Wes can almost see the smoke coming out of his ears as he wonders whether Wes has changed his mind. It almost makes Wesley laugh. "This probably isn't the best time for..."

Angel's brain catches up; Wesley can see the gears click into place. "Right. Office. Work."

"Exactly."

"So...?"

"So I'm going to go to my own office. I'm going to go about business as usual, as are you. I'm going to work late, and I suspect that when I finish, you'll still be here, in your office, and perhaps then...?"

"How about you just come up to my place?" Angel asks, and Wes struggles to drag air into his lungs.

"Your place?"

**Yeah, baby!**

"Unless you'd rather not."

Wesley thinks about it for several moments. It's a terrible idea; starting a...something-or-other with his employer, his friend, but... He finds himself nodding. This time, when Angel leans forward, Wesley doesn't step away. He lets Angel kiss him, more a promise than a preview, and step back to open the door again. Wes blinks once more, takes a deep breath, and leaves the office.

 

* * *

 

"You're late."

"Yes. I apologize. Circumstances in my department were less than favorable this afternoon, and I had an immense amount of paperwork to deal with in the aftermath."

"Anything I should be concerned about?"

"Nothing substantial, though I did have to terminate the employment of one of my most dedicated researchers."

Angel closes the door behind Wes as he enters. "That's tough."

"Well, considering that most of his favorite research projects involved ways to gain entry to the lower level vaults and get his hands on a particularly dangerous talisman, I should have been expecting it."

"We done with the small talk?"

"One would imagine as much, yes."

**Kink. Making small talk, even though you both know you’re making small talk, and then giving up the pretense, and going at it. Yeah.**

Then they're kissing. Wesley's pressed up against the door, nearly slammed there with the force of Angel plastering their bodies together, mouth devouring Wesley's lips.

**What? Angel’s horny. It’s WES.**

Wesley lets out a moan as Angel's hands steal the bottom of his shirt from the waistband of his trousers, caressing his trembling stomach with cool hands that felt immeasurably hot. He can't do anything but clutch at Angel's shoulders, feeling cool silk over smooth steel, wondering when exactly his life turned upside down.

**Right about the time when someone showed me how to type, sweetheart. Sorry about that. I promise you’ll get off, though.**

His lungs are burning, craving air, but he can't be arsed to care, because the last thing he wants to do is give up Angel's mouth. Angel seems to anticipate his need for air, and moves his mouth; not off of Wesley, just off his mouth, so that Angel's lips and tongue and teeth are doing indescribable things to his jaw and his throat, and Wes can gasp and struggle for air as much as he likes, though he's discovering that breathing's a bit more difficult than usual at the moment.

**I love that expression, “can’t be arsed”. I stole it from Lazuli, and even use it in my own day-to-day life, which earns me strange glances and amused questions. I simply smile and continue on my way, because, really, I don’t want them to use it too. *giggle***

He knows this is entirely too fast. It's Angel. This shouldn't be happening at all, let alone as quickly as this. But, he thinks,  _fuck it_. He's not going to get another chance like this. Wesley doesn't often go after what he wants anymore, but he knows that now is the time to change that.

"I wanted to thank you," he murmurs, raising his hand to lace his fingers through the hair on the back of Angel's head.

"Yeah?" Angel's mouth doesn't leave the muscle of his neck that travels down from his ear, and Wes shivers. 

"Yes. You did such a good job of removing the kinks in my spine. I wanted to say thank you."

"You're welcome." A gentle nibble at his ear, and Wes leaned more heavily against the door.

"I also wanted to ask you...I'm afraid I may have developed another. I was hoping you could...?"

"Of course, Wes," Angel says, stepping back. He gently pulls Wes up and away from the door, and turns him around. He places both hands on the middle of Wesley's back. "Where?"

"Lower."

"Here?"

"Lower still," Wesley answers.

"Wes?"

"Yes, Angel?"

"You playing with me?"

Wesley waits for a moment, taking stock of their position. His body is pressed against the door, with Angel's hands quite expertly cupping the globes of his ass, gently massaging. He chuckles low in his throat, the sound turning into a groan as Angel squeezes just right.

**I can’t take full credit for the ass-massage. It was Sheepy’s idea. But I adored it, so…yeah. Plus, I wanna grab Wesley’s ass, and this story was about writing out my kinks.**

"It's a possibility," Wesley finally says. Suddenly he's whirled around, with Angel directly in his face. His heart skips a beat, and he wonders if he's done the wrong thing, again, but then Angel grins. It's nearly scary.

"Don't stop, then," Angel says, and they're drowning again, mouths fused together as Angel replaces his hands on Wesley's ass, pulling and squeezing as he walks backwards, and Wesley lets himself be dragged further into the apartment, through a doorway until Angel turns him around and pushes down, knocking what little air Wes has out of his chest as Angel lands on him, on the firm, luxuriously covered bed.

"What's your next move, Wes?" Wesley looks up at him curiously. "Your game, your call."

Wesley takes a moment to think about it. "Chess."

**Once again, Sheepy’s fault. Chess, I mean. And it made me giggle evilly, which is ALWAYS a bad sign. So it had to go in.**

Angel blinks at him. "Chess?"

"That, or I thought I might suck your cock. You can decide."

**Kink. BIG kink. Wesley sucking cock. No, seriously. You’ll see. I LOVE Wes as a cockwhore.**

"Been a long time since I played a decent game of chess," Angel replies. Wesley's eyes narrow and he reaches a hand down, smacking Angel's ass playfully. Angel smirks at him and leans down to steal another kiss, but Wesley uses the movement to roll them over so that now he's laying atop Angel.

"I've changed my mind; you no longer get to make the decisions."

"Yes, Wesley." 

**That, right there? That’s my official shout out to The Brat Queen. If you haven’t read her story Pet, (why the bloody hell HAVEN’T you?!), she has Wes as Angel’s pet. In a sexy kinky way. Where Wesley doesn’t get a say, he simply says “Yes, Angel.” All the time. I’m still waiting for Joss to write it in. HOPING “Yes, Angel” makes an appearance, for whatever reason, because I will SO cream in my pants. Yeah, you heard me. So that’s why I put this in. Because I want “Yes, Wesley” too. I’m greedy.**

�

Chapter Three

Wes grins and leans down for a kiss, while his hands move to Angel's chest and begin carefully unbuttoning his silk shirt. Angel chuckles, but it's cut off when Wesley's tongue runs along the dip between his pectoral muscles. Wes presses wet kisses along Angel's abdomen, slowly moving ever lower, until he reaches Angel's trousers. He runs his tongue under the waistband, and Angel moans. Wesley hides his smile as his fingers begin gently pulling at the fastenings of Angel's pants. Angel lifts his hips slightly to help, and soon Wesley pulls them down far enough to access Angel's erection.

Which, by the way, is certainly lovely. Wesley can't help a shy glance up at Angel, who's looking at him with such... _lust_. Wes holds back a whimper and puts his head back down. He doesn't take Angel in his mouth, yet. He's savoring this. He takes a deep breath, smelling the musk of Angel's arousal, and can't help but nuzzle against the rigid flesh with his cheek.

"Jesus, Wes," comes from Angel's throat, and it's ragged and strained, and Wesley has to look up again. He's never seen such an intense gaze: Angel is watching him, seemingly unable to tear his eyes away from Wesley at his cock, and Wesley can imagine what he's feeling, because he's feeling something akin to it, himself. To be this close, to be able to touch and smell Angel's arousal, to look up and see Angel's chest, face, body, spread out and bared for him, for him, to know that he's allowed to do this, to touch and smell and taste.

Which, speaking of... Wesley dips, and takes the head of Angel's cock in his mouth, swirls his tongue around the tip, and moans at the cool salt and copper taste. He looks up, mouth still attached, and starts to move down, never taking his eyes off of Angel's.

**Oh yeah. Suck it, Wes.**

Angel's watching him, and Wes suddenly knows what it would have felt like to be stared down by Angelus. Angel's eyes are intense, feral, hungry, single-minded. To be the subject of that look...It's like the rest of the world has fallen away, and for Angel, there's nothing remaining but Wesley. Wes moans, and his eyes flutter closed as he presses further down, feeling Angel deep in the back of his throat, swallowing around the thick head as he helplessly grinds his own hips against the bed, looking for some form of friction. 

"Open your pants, Wes," Angel groans, propping himself up on his elbows, and Wesley's eyes flutter open again to meet that passionate stare. "I wanna see you touch yourself."

**Oh yeah. Kink. Kiiiiink. Wes getting THAT turned on, just from having Angel’s cock in his mouth. Mrr. It’s probably the same as my kink about Wes loving to suck cock, but still. Worth mentioning over and over and over.**

Wes moans again, fingers clawing into Angel's hard thighs as he regains some semblance of control. After a moment of suction, he manages to turn his body enough that he can open the fly on his trousers, and push them down enough that his own cock springs up. He shudders when the head of it slaps against his belly, and Angel moans.

"Fuck, Wes."

Wesley groans in agreement, and Angel's hips twitch. 

"Touch yourself."

Wesley's too far gone now, he can't help but obey the request. He whimpers and wraps his left hand around his cock, tipping his hips enough that Angel can have the view that he's asked for. Angel moans, and Wesley puts more effort into bobbing his head up and down on Angel's erection, sucking and licking on each upstroke.

He's jerking himself off in time with the movements of his mouth, and he can feel Angel's hips start to twitch more powerfully.

"God, Wes...the way you look right now. God, I wish you could see. Your hand, your cock, your fucking beautiful mouth...all your clothes on..." Angel cuts off his own husky words with a breathless moan, and Wes takes a deep breath, pushing down, down, until his chin is pressing against Angel's twitching sac, his nose buried in wiry pubic hair, his throat and jaw working to bring as much pleasure to Angel as he can because suddenly he wants nothing more than to steal all coherent words from Angel's mouth, and fill his own with Angel's come.

**Dirty talk. Kink. I can’t write it that well, but dayum. I love it. And in my world, Wesl loves it too. Because, well, it makes him come. Mrr.**

"Fuck, Wes, I'm gonna..." Wes swallows convulsively, his hand and Angel's words finally pushing him over, and Wes has to drag his mouth off of Angel to cry out, hips twitching and cock jerking, spurts of his orgasm rushing out onto his own hand, onto the 300-thread-count Egyptian silk coverlet. As Wes is crying out, he dimly hears a low, strained growl from Angel, feels cool seed on his lips, in his mouth, on his cheek, and he moans, the sensation somehow managing to drag his orgasm on even more.

When his body finally relaxes, Wes drops his head against Angel's thigh with an exhausted moan. His tongue slips out to lick at his lips, and he feels Angel's cock twitch again against his forehead.

"Christ, Wes." A quiet moan from Wesley is the only response. They lay that way for several minutes, Wesley catching his breath and savoring the taste of Angel's come in his mouth, until with a groan, Angel sits up. Wesley refuses to move. Not that he could if he tried, but he's decided not to try, either. He murmurs contentment when Angel's hand brushes through his hair, then his finger swipes along his cheek, wiping a stray drop of semen from the skin. He holds his finger out to Wes, who immediately takes the digit into his mouth and ravenously sucks it clean.

Angel groans, then pulls his finger away, lips twitching at Wesley's sleepy moan of disappointment. "Come on, Wes. Under the covers."

"I'm quite comfortable here, thank you," Wesley mumbles.

Angel ignores him, gingerly lifting Wesley's head off his lap, and turning them around so they're laying the right way on the bed and pulling the covers up over them. He turns Wes over onto his side and plasters himself against his back, wrapping his arms around Wes tightly, holding him. 

**Yup. Spooning, cuddling after sex. Kinks.**

 

* * *

 

They wake some time in the middle of the night. Angel wakes first, and entertains himself by very gently teasing Wesley's cock until it's pulsing and thick in his hand. Eventually, it wakes Wes, who moans and presses his hips back, so that Angel's own erection slides up into the groove between his cheeks. Angel moans back at him.

"When did I get naked?" Wesley asks, confusion winning out over lust.

"I got bored waiting for you to wake up. Do you mind?"

"Not as such, no."

"Good." Angel runs his cock into that groove again, and Wes pushes back, loving the way Angel's skin has picked up the heat of his own while they slept, and now Angel's skin is deliciously warm against his.

"How long did we sleep?" Wes gasps as Angel's fingers run the length of his erection.

"Hour or two. Not long."

"Then we've all night."

"Pretty much, yeah. You good with that?"

Wes hisses a breath, pushing his hips roughly against Angel's hand.

"I think I could be persuaded."

"Can I fuck you, Wes?" Angel rumbles. It's like a lion's purr, the way he says it, deep in his throat, honey-warmed and raising the hair on the back of Wesley's neck.

**God, yes, Angel.**

"God, yes, Angel," Wesley moans, arching his throat as Angel presses a kiss to the side of it, cock caressing that warm, sweat-dampened furrow again.

Angel reaches over him, to the side table, and Wes can't help himself; he swipes his tongue broadly across Angel's bicep, while Angel reaches into the drawer for a tube of what Wesley can only assume will be lubricant. Angel chuckles and pulls the tube out, staying leaned over Wes long enough to press their lips together languorously.

It's surreal, to Wesley. Before, they'd been so rushed, so hurried, so wild in their passion to come together. This was almost...comfortably familiar. It was gentle, this arousal, and Wes could almost convince himself that there may have been feeling behind the sex.

Another difference is that earlier, Angel had been particularly vocal. Now there aren't any words. Gasps and slight moans as fingers enter him, replaced by the thicker, blunter head of Angel's arousal, sliding deep and slick inside him with more ease than Wesley had ever experienced before. They lay on their sides on the bed, one of Wesley's thighs brought up as Angel slowly, gently thrusts into him, filling him over and over again.

Wesley's eyes roll back in his head, his chest heaving as they move together, rocking slowly on the bed. The slow stretch-burn had been missed, but Angel seems to bring it to new levels that Wesley had never experienced. He moans as Angel's hand moves up and caresses his nipple, it's diamond-hard by the time Angel moves to the other one, and Wes can't do anything but writhe, under his fingers, on his cock, can't think about what's going to happen in the morning because right now Angel's inside him, filling him, touching him. 

Wesley's release comes as a surprise, rushing over him quickly and almost violently, hot seed spilling over the sheets as his body clenches around Angel, tightening like a vise as Angel sucks desperately at the skin on Wesley's shoulder, hips stuttering and pushing deeper, rougher, as his own cock explodes inside Wesley's body.

Wes moans piteously as Angel pulls out, suddenly empty and ignoring the self-conscious shame as he feels part of Angel's release dripping out of him, sliding down the curve of his skin.

**Can’t you just see it? Guh. Kink.**

"Wes, I..." Gentle lips across the back of his shoulders, nibbling licks and sucking kisses.

"Yes, Angel?"

Angel pauses. "Wanna go take a bath?"

**I wish I could have handled that bit better. I wanted it to be obvious that at this point, Angel was going to tell Wes he loved him. But couldn’t. Because Angel doesn’t do that, not first. Mind you, neither does Wesley, which brought up new problems, but anyway. It’s not obvious here, and I wanted it to be.**

 

* * *

 

"Has it occurred to you just how entirely strange this is?"

**What, that Robin’s written so many stories and not been stoned to death in the middle of a busy street?**

"Not much for baths?" Angel asks, using a rough-soft sponge to sluice water onto Wesley's chest. Wes sighs and leans more heavily onto Angel. 

"Not as a rule, no. Although, yours is large enough that I could certainly get used to it." He regrets the words as soon as they're out of his mouth. How can he simply assume that this will last more than this one night? 

**Just so it’s clear, I conceived this whole scene while lying in the tub myself. Which is NOT as nice and big as Angel’s and totally doesn’t have enough room for me, and I’m only 5’6’’. So, anyway, that’s another kink. Shared baths. And BIG tubs. So I guess that’s two kinks.**

"I think I like the idea of seeing you this wet often," Angel murmurs against his neck, and Wesley relaxes slightly. 

**Me too, Angel. Me too.**

"Anyway, I wasn't referring to the bath, wonderful as it is. I was referring to this. You and I."

"Does it seem that strange to you?"

Wesley turns his head, giving Angel an almost incredulous look. "Well, I, personally, certainly never expected it."

"Guess you weren't paying attention."

Wesley waits. He doesn't quite know what to say, but he's hoping Angel's going to elaborate further for him.

"We've been moving toward this for a long time. I thought you'd noticed."

"I can't say the thought never crossed my mind, but I thought you..."

"You thought wrong."

"Why now?"

"Got tired of waiting." Angel presses a gentle kiss to Wesley's shoulder, pulls him back to rest against his chest as they lie in the large Jacuzzi tub. 

"No, seriously, Angel. Why now?"

**Okay, ROBIN got tired of waiting.**

"Things weren't as... hectic as usual. I thought it might be the right time. And, like I said: I got tired of waiting."

Wesley relaxes against him for a moment, loving the feel of Angel's hands rubbing the warm water into his skin. "Were you waiting long?" he finally asks.

"Long enough."

After another few moments, "why did you wait?"

"You weren't ready. Neither was I. There was too much other stuff going on, Wes."

**Only half of which Wesley knows about. Ho hum.**

Wesley takes Angel's hand and presses a kiss to his palm with a deep sigh. "Do you have any idea what time it is?"

"Four or five, I think."

"So we've at least another hour before we have to go downstairs, then?"

"I'd say so."

"Excellent." Wes takes Angel's hand again and guides it down to his half-erect penis. Angel laughs, low, and presses a gentle kiss against the side of Wesley's neck.

**Kink: sex in the tub. Yeah.**

�

Chapter Four

Wesley insists that they take the elevator separately. His plan is to go down first, early, when there's hardly any staff on his floor, and let Angel take a different elevator to his own floor.

"Really, there's no call to invite gossip into our personal lives, Angel," Wesley insists. Angel stares him down for a moment, studying him, before finally giving a small nod of consent. Wesley holds back a relieved sigh and enters the elevator.

The morning, by all accounts, is fairly boring. However, when Wesley sits just right, he can still feel Angel inside him. It gives him a pleasant shiver whenever he shifts in his chair.

**Kink. Wes still being able to feel Angel’s cock in him, hours later. Hey, in my world, Angel’s got a bloody tree trunk between his thighs. Because Wes likes them big.**

Just before lunch, his intercom buzzes. "Yes?"

"Hi Wes!"

"Harmony. Good morning."

"Listen, Wes, Angel wanted me to call you and ask you to come to his office for a lunch meeting," Harmony rattles off. "He said that he checked with Jennifer and she said you didn't have anything on your schedule?"

**Well, no, because he doesn’t schedule sex.**

"That's right, Harmony. Did Angel happen to mention what the meeting was about?"

**Sex?**

"No, he just said it would probably take the whole lunch hour. Should I tell him you'll be there?"

**For sex.**

Wesley debates it. He's not sure it's such a good idea for him to be in close quarters with Angel this soon after their encounter. However, the idea of being in the same room with Angel has its merits. Such as being in the same room with Angel.

**Meaning you can have sex.**

"Yes, Harmony, tell him I can make it."

**I wish I’d thought to make this line “Yes, Harmony, tell him I can come” for the sheer pleasure of the pun, but it wouldn’t have really worked with the story anyway, because at this point Wes is entertaining he idea that Angel might actually be making this a business meeting. Poor, silly Wesley.**

"Great. He wanted me to order up some food for you, too. Got a preference?"

"A watercress sandwich should be fine, Harmony. Thank you."

**I don’t even know what watercress IS, but spikes_heart said Wes would eat it. *shrug* Like I come up with my own ideas? Pah!**

He clicked off the intercom and sat back in his chair, shivering a little as the action stretched out his sex-sore muscles. He barely held back a grin. He wondered if Angel had an actual reason for this lunch meeting.

 

* * *

 

Wesley knocks on Angel's office door, nodding at the deliveryman as he takes his sandwich. The door closes and they're alone.

"Hi, Wes."

"Angel."

Angel moves to his desk, and Wes goes to sit on the sofa. "Harmony?" Angel calls, hitting his intercom button. "Make sure no one interrupts us, okay?"

**Cuz we’re gonna be having sex.**

"Sure thing, Boss!"

Angel turns, and Wesley suddenly feels like a skittish deer in front of a Mack Truck. Angel's pure predator as he stalks toward the sofa, and he shakily places his sandwich on the table.

Angel sits close beside him, and pulls Wesley so that he's almost on his lap. Their faces are close, but they're not kissing. Angel nuzzles Wesley's cheek, earning a sigh.

"Missed you. All morning," Angel says, running fingers down Wesley's throat.

Wesley whimpers. 

"I wanna be in you again," is murmured into his mouth, before Angel finally claims his lips in a bone-melting kiss. Wes grasps Angel's forearms, tilting his head back to deepen it, sucking gently on the tongue that's suddenly in his mouth.

**Yeah, Angel, I want you to be in Wes again too.**

Angel presses him back on the couch, lying on top of him, already starting to remove his shirt. Wes brings his leg up, pressing the inside of his thigh against Angel's hip as Angel grinds down against him.

**Kink: Making out on the couch.**

"Spike, you can't go in there!" Harmony shouts from the hall, but it's already too late. Spike's opened the door, and is standing in the doorway, dumbfounded. Wes pushes Angel off of him, his face flushed with embarrassment, trying to right his clothes.

"Spike, what the hell are you--" Angel's cut off as a sly grin grows on Spike's face. Spike suddenly whirls around and nearly bounds out into the lobby. 

"I won, you wankers!" he crows, loudly. "I told you all they wouldn't last till Christmas!"

**Kink: Everyone knowing the characters wanna get it on, and placing a bet on it.**

"What? Already?" comes Harmony's voice. Angel and Wesley share a look.

"What the hell?" Angel asks, standing and moving toward the door. 

"You guys couldn't wait two more weeks?" Harmony accuses plaintively. "That's all I needed, you know!"

"Two weeks...?"

"For the pool!" It's said as though Angel should obviously know what she's talking about. Wes has figured it out, already. His face is burning. They had a pool going, concerning when he and Angel would... God. He doesn't think he's ever felt so humiliated. He sits back down on the couch. Perhaps he should use Angel's private elevator, go home, and never, ever leave his flat again. Yes, that's definitely the best course of action. He stands and heads for the elevator.

"Where are you going?" Angel asks, and his face is still masked with hopeless confusion.

"I thought I'd go home, drown myself in a bottle or two of good Scotch, and never come to work again. Ever."

"Just...wait a minute, dammit, until I can figure out what's going on!"

"It's obvious, isn't it? They've had a pool going. About when you and I..."

Angel's face relaxes. "Oh."

"Yes, oh. Now that my personal life is a matter of office gossip, my work here is done and I'd like to go wallow."

"Just...wait, Wes." Angel closes the door, shutting out the clamor of the office divvying up their losses and winnings. 

"Angel, I..."

**”Angel, I…” *smacks self***

"Okay, so they know. Fine. So what? They probably would have figured it out eventually, anyway. I was never very good at subtle."

"I don't wish to have my personal life splashed about the morning memos, Angel," Wesley says, anger starting to rise in his chest.

"Give them a week, and they'll find something else to gossip about. It's not a big deal that they know. At least now we don't have to try and hide it."

"You don't get it, do you, Angel?" Wesley replies, a bitter chuckle escaping with the words.

"Get what?"

"It's not just now. When this is over, it will come up again, and it will definitely last longer than a week when that time comes. Scandal always lasts longer than simple gossip."

"What do you mean, 'when this is over'?"

"Well, it certainly isn't going to last forever. Can you honestly tell me that you were considering eternal romance, Angel?"

There's a pause. Finally, Angel speaks, quietly. "The thought may have crossed my mind a time or two."

**Kink: Sweet, sweet lovin’.**

That brings Wesley's rant up short. "Oh," he finally manages.

"Look, Wes," Angel says, stepping closer and cupping Wesley's cheek in his massive palm. "You're strong, and independent, and smart, and sexy."

**REALLY sexy.**

Wesley opens his mouth to protest, but Angel cuts him off.

"I've thought about you and me for a long time, and I wouldn't have gotten into this if I didn't want to stay there."

Wesley's having a very difficult time making his mouth move to form words.

Angel presses a gentle kiss to his lips. "Let 'em talk. They'll get bored. And if it bothers you that much, I'll fire them."

Wes quirks an eyebrow. "All of them?"

"If you want."

"I don't, but...it's nice to know you would."

"There's a lot of things I'd do for you, Wes."

This time, Wesley kisses him. It's less gentle.

 

* * *

 

Wesley wakes up in the middle of the night, which isn't a particularly new thing for him. The difference this night is that he wakes up in Angel's bed. Angel's not curled around him, though Wesley vaguely remembers being wrapped in strong, cool arms when he fell asleep. He opens his eyes and gazes around the room. Angel's in his armchair, on the other side of it, with a lamp beside him turned on. He's sketching.

**Kink: Angel’s drawing. Also, this whole scene? Inspired by my thought of this particular sketch. Which actually kept me awake one night when I thought the periodic insomnia was over, but I had to get up and write it. Actually well before I wrote the last few scenes, because it needed to be put on paper.**

He's also naked, so Wesley watches him for a few moments.

"Angel?" he finally asks.

"Wes. Hey. I couldn't sleep."

"We have an early meeting tomorrow."

"I know, but..."

Wesley sits up, pulling the coverlet around his waist. "What are you drawing?"

"You."

Wes blinks at that. He knows Angel's an excellent artist. He's honed his skill over his long lifetime, and Wes has seen some of the sketches Angel's done in the past: Darla, Cordelia, Buffy, even the odd drawing of Spike chained and exaggeratedly gagged after a particularly annoying day. He's more than a little flattered that he can add himself to that list.

**Most of this paragraph actually originally appeared in the prologue, but I moved it out to here afterward.**

"May I see it?"

"It's not finished."

"I can wait." Angel holds his gaze for a moment, then turns back to his sketchpad, drawing lines on paper. Wesley watches him for a few moments, then moves to the kitchen to get a glass of water. He crawls back into the bed, takes a sip, places it on the nightstand and continues watching Angel draw.

Finally, Angel studies the sketch for a few moments, and places his pencil down on the table. He carries the pad back to the bed, crawling in besides Wes and wrapping his arms around him before handing him the sketch.

It literally takes Wesley's breath away. The sketch is from Angel's view, earlier that night. Wesley sees himself, astride Angel's hips, head thrown back in ecstasy. Angel's put his photographic memory to good use; at the bottom of the drawing is Angel's chest, abdomen, arms, hands gripped on Wesley's hips as Wes rode him. Wes can see the muscles bulging in his own thighs, see his erection standing thick and hard against his belly, the base of Angel's cock where it's penetrating him. Wesley can still feel himself stretched around Angel's girth, and the sketch does the memory more than justice. 

**Kink: Riding your lover like a pony. Boo ya. I need to know an artist who’s not going to squick at drawing this for me. My friend is an excellent artist, but I don’t think she wants to draw me gay porn. But dude…if anyone out there is reading this, and can draw well? PLEASE draw this for me and I will adore you forever. I’ll give you SOMETHING in return, I swear it.**

The detail in the drawing is magnificent. The lines and planes of Angel's body thrusting up to meet him, Wesley's fingers digging into the hard muscle of Angel's chest. His neck is arched, straining as he works himself on Angel's cock, but... in the drawing, there's a faint line drawn across his throat. It looks like a scar, but a shadow at the same time, and despite the sheer eroticism of the picture in front of him, the mark gives him pause. He doesn't have a scar across his neck.

"Angel? What's this scar, here?" Wes asks, his voice a little rough because even through his curiosity, the picture's aroused him.

"Hm?" Angel asks, nuzzling into the nape of Wesley's neck. Wes points to the mark on the sketch.

"This. I don't have a scar on my throat."

***melodramatic music* Bum bum bummmmm!**

"I guess there must have been a shadow. Earlier. I just drew what I remembered." 

**Liar.**

Wesley wants to ask more, because something about Angel's voice isn't convincing him, but Angel swipes a broad tongue up to his ear, and the words are lost. He drops the pad to the floor, turning himself in Angel's arms, bringing their mouths together for a kiss. He's already forgotten his question.

�

Chapter Five

Eventually, Wesley moves his possessions into Angel's apartment.

"You stay every night, anyway, Wes," Angel tells him one morning while they're eating breakfast. Angel's drinking otter's blood, and Wesley is making his way through a bowl of oatmeal.

"You have a point."

"I just think it'd be easier. And...I'd like you to. Move in." Wesley smiles at the slightly bashful expression on Angel's face, and leans forward to press a light kiss to the corner of Angel's mouth.

"I'd like that, as well."

Wesley doesn't work as late, anymore, either. He's attuned his schedule so that it coincides more with Angel's. Instead of being in the office by five every morning, he comes in with Angel at seven, not stopping by his own office before the regularly scheduled morning progress meetings.

"Is it just me, or are things kind of slow lately?" Fred asks when the meeting's started to slow down.

**I hate this whole scene. Because it’s a group scene. Stupidness.**

"They always are around this time of year, Crumpet," Lorne replies with a smile. 

"Solstice, right?"

"Works for me," Gunn sighs. "This means I can drown my ass in paperwork instead of having to be over at the courthouse."

"Gunn has a point. We can be using this time to catch up, perhaps even get ahead of the game before the next crisis," says Wesley.

"Things finally slow down and you guys wanna work  _harder_?" Lorne snorts. "Figures. Come on, people! It's Solstice! Party time!"

"I hate parties," Angel nearly growls.

"Oh, come on, Twinkle Toes. Even you can take a night off to relax." Lorne looks pointedly in Wesley's direction. "In public, I mean." Wesley can't quite keep the blush from his cheeks.

**Kink: Wes blushing. Yeah, baby. It’s a good thing I’m NOT keeping count of these. Because I would have lost track long before now.**

"I think a party would be fun," Fred admits, and Wesley's grateful to her for diverting everyone's attention.

"I really hate parties," Angel says.

**Kink: everyone ignoring Angel. Just when he’s being a dork.**

"We could invite all the clients we don't hate," replies Lorne, his voice filled with a tone that suggests he's dangling a carrot.

"All two of them?" Angel answers grouchily.

"We could use the decent PR." Angel glares at Gunn.

"And it'd give everyone a nice healthy shot of morale-boosting. I can do all the planning, Angel, all you have to do is show your pretty face."

"Your party-planning wouldn't happen to involve insomnia again, would it? Because you're not making much of a case for yourself."

"Yeah, that whole no-sleep thing was a little creepy," Fred agrees. 

**Hey. It just occurred to me that in my Author’s Notes, I mentioned that Fred wasn’t in this fic. But she is. Huh. NEAT. This is what happens when I don’t pay attention. Which is, admittedly, most of the time. *whispers* I’m a little slow.**

"I promise I'll get all forty winks."

Angel glares at his friends for several long moments. "Fine. But I am  _not_  dancing."

 

* * *

 

"Come on, Wesley. Just one little dance?" Fred wheedles.

"Really, Fred, I..."

"Charles won't dance with me anymore, and Lorne had to take care of some punch emergency, and I really wanna dance!"

Wesley sighs, and stands, and lets Fred drag him out to the floor.

He lets Fred wrap her arms around his neck as they move on the floor. He knows he's not a good dancer, but Fred's laughing happily with joy, not cruelly, and he can't help but lose himself to the music.

They don't stop gyrating on the floor through three songs, until Fred is breathless with laughter, and Wesley's earning a bit of a stitch in his side, himself. Fred's grinning from ear to ear, and it's infectious, so Wes is grinning back at her. The song's wound to a close, and Wesley's getting ready to kiss the back of Fred's hand and thank her for the dance, when her eyes slide away from his, to something over his shoulder.

An instant later, there's a gentle hand on the back of his neck. "Mind if I cut in?" is rumbled near his ear.

Fred grins, shakes her head, and bounces away from the dance floor, presumably searching for her next victim. Wes turns, and Angel's arms are already wrapped around him, as the music starts to swell; Wesley recognizes the song as Sinatra's "Embraceable You". Angel pulls him closer.

**Kink: slow-dancing. I know, I’m a sucker. And Sinatra was, again, spikes_heart’s idea. And it gained me an undiscovered love for Sinatra.**

"I thought you didn't dance?" Wesley finally asks, his fingers gently toying with the soft threads of Angel's sweater.

"Missed you." 

Wes lets out a small smile.

"Having fun?" Angel asks after a moment, fingers fanning out across Wesley's hips.

"I think I might be," Wes replies, glancing up into Angel's eyes.

Maybe it's the music, hopelessly romantic, or the lights, dimmed enough to set a mood, or the euphoria of a new relationship, but Wesley can barely stand to look at Angel; he's suddenly light-headed, and his heart thumps raucously in his chest.

"Wes?"

Wesley lets out a soft breath, which ghosts across Angel's cheek.

Angel leans forward, presses the gentlest of kisses against Wesley's lips, and Wesley's lost. Their mouths meet slowly, softly, lips gliding together almost in time with the music filling the room, and for a moment Wesley forgets that they aren't alone. 

**Actually not a kink. I’m not much for PDAs. Mind you, if it’s Wes and Angel, I’m all for it. So maybe it IS a kink, just not MINE.**

Angel pulls back, then, holding Wesley's eyes for long moments. His hand reaches up to cup Wesley's cheek, and Wes can't help but lean into the touch.

Another quick kiss to Wesley's lips, and Angel pulls away, pressing his own cheek to Wesley's, on the side where his hand isn't.

"This is nice," Wesley finally says, feeling he should fill the silence somehow. Angel's hand tightens almost imperceptibly on his back. His other hand steals away from Wesley's cheek, taking hold of Wesley's hand and locking their fingers together before holding those locked fingers against his own chest. He pulls Wesley close enough that his chest touches their hands, too.

They sway, gently, like this for what seems like forever. Eventually, Wes looks up, and sees that not only are there other people in the room, but most of them are dancing the YMCA. He realizes the music's changed, possibly some time ago, and his face reddens. He happens to catch a glance of Gunn, across the room, failing to hold back snickering laughter.

**Kink: Being so in love that you can slow-dance to the YMCA. Also makes me snicker.**

"Angel..." Wes says, pulling back. They've made fools of themselves.

Angel doesn't seem to notice, or care. "I wanna be alone with you," he says, running fingertips down Wesley's cheek.

After a moment, Wes nods, and Angel uses their still-clasped hands to guide Wes to the elevator.

"Oh, thanks, boys! Happy Solstice to you, too! So glad you enjoyed the party. No, I didn't mind planning it all! No, no, don't you worry about a thing! I'll clean up the streamers! You go have fun playing hide the swizzle stick!" yelled Lorne across the room, bringing another deep flush to Wesley's face. Thankfully, the elevator doors close and he's left alone with Angel. Not a bad state to be in at all.

**Hide the swizzle stick. Hah! That was Sheepy’s idea. And it made me laugh. And look, more blushing.**

 

* * *

 

Up in the suite, Wesley expects Angel to jump on him, throw him onto the bed and have his wicked vampire way with him. He's only mildly disappointed when Angel pulls him to the bed gently, and curls up on his side behind Wes, pressing gentle kisses to the back of his neck, but otherwise just lying together. Wes wraps his hands around Angel's forearms, held around his chest. They lay there for what seems like a blissful eternity, Wesley's hands making small circles on the skin of Angel's arms.

**Kink: snuggling and being gentle. And spooning again. Like I said, sucker.**

Eventually, the kisses on the back of his neck grow more eager, and Angel's own hands begin to trace lazy patterns down his stomach. Wes presses into the touch, then slowly wriggles until he's on his other side, facing Angel. He presses his mouth to Angel's, and they kiss languidly, Wes pressing his tongue forward until he can taste the inside of Angel's mouth. Their tongues slide together slowly, wetly, as Angel's hand teases up and down his spine.

Angel's hand gently pulls the material of Wes' shirt until it comes loose from his waistband, and slides his hand underneath the thin cotton, until he can touch skin. Wes mewls gently into the kiss, shifting closer so that he can press his lower body against his lover's.

Clothing comes away gently, slowly, until they're both naked, fingers exploring and caressing with dizzying tenderness.

**I use the word “dizzy” and its variations far too often. Just, you know, for the record. If you hadn’t noticed.**

Angel's hand returns to his hip, over and over, erupting goose bumps in its wake as it traces the warmer flesh. Wes shivers lightly, running his thumb along Angel's strong jaw, down his throat, as his fingertips card into Angel's hairline.

Angel pulls his mouth away, placing gentle kisses down Wesley's throat, across his chest, over his shoulders in no discernable pattern. Wesley sighs, running his hand through Angel's hair as he enjoys the sensations.

Angel laps at one of his nipples, and Wesley's eyes lose focus slightly. Then Angel stops, pulls away slightly, looking up into Wes' face.

Wes looks down at him, meeting his eyes.

"Need you, Wes," he murmurs, fingers slipping down his thigh. Wes takes a deep breath before speaking.

"Then have me, Angel." Another kiss, as Angel leans across to retrieve the lubricant, and slick fingers reach around Wesley's hips to press gently inside. A shuddering sigh as Wes bends his leg to give easier access. He pushes back against those fingers, already warming within his body, as Angel deftly stretches him.

Finally, Angel presses Wes back, rolling him and hovering over him, more soft kisses ghosting across his face, lingering at his lips as Angel's gentle hands pull his legs up, opening him and slipping between his thighs. Wesley moans into his mouth as Angel presses in, deep, slow.

When Angel's fully inside him, Wes opens his eyes. Angel's hands take his, lacing their fingers together and pressing the backs of Wes' hands into the bedding. Angel starts to move, long, slow strokes, and Wesley thinks he might stop breathing altogether, soon.

**Kink! Interlaced fingers while doing the nasty. Except I suppose this doesn’t count as the nasty, as it’s so godawfully lovey-dovey. So much so that it’s making ME sick. And I LIKE that shit. *sigh***

The feel of Angel inside him is something he never wants to get used to. Every time, it feels new and foreign, filling him and stretching him and making him feel the most amazing things. Sparks shoot off behind his eyelids; his lungs are burning for air he can't remember how to inhale. Angel's moving so damned slowly, but Wesley's heart is pounding, his skin glistens with sweat as he struggles to find some grip on reality as his head floats. He's flying, now, dimly aware that he's coming, but too wrapped in the sensations that Angel's causing in his entire body to realize that his cock's exploding.

**Can you actually not notice that you’re coming? Cuz I don’t know. I threw it in though. Cuz I wrote it, and I can.**

He drags air into his lungs, neck arching as his muscles tremble with the force, legs tightening against Angel's hips as he keeps thrusting, starting to put more power into it. It's as if Angel's continued movements are dragging his orgasm out, so long, he's still trembling, still can't breathe, still gasping and seeing stars, and he has to moan out loud.

"Angel...I...Oh, I love you." He wants to take it back, but Angel lets out a groan, thrusts roughly into him, and Wes can feel him pulsating, coming, jerking and writhing over him with more power than he's seen yet of his lover.

**Kink: Saying things you don’t think you should have said in the heat of the moment. Because I’m CONSTANTLY putting my foot in it, and I love the idea of Wes doing it. Because he wouldn’t ACTUALLY say it, otherwise; that’s FAR too revealing. *rolls eyes* Stupid boys. Oh, also a kink? The words “I love you” sending the recipient into a violent orgasm. What? He likes hearing it. A LOT. Heh.**

"God, Wes, you..." Angel interrupts himself with a searing kiss to Wesley's lips, and Wes feels like he's drowning all over again, his skin tingling as Angel's hips continue to stutter against him with the aftershocks. 

Finally, Angel pulls out of his body, drawing out a tiny whimper, as Wesley's leaden limbs fall to the bed. Angel wraps himself around Wesley's body, holding him close enough that not an inch of space is between them.

Wesley's breathing is slowing down, and he knows he's going to fall asleep soon, but he hears a low whisper in his ear. It's in Gaelic, which Angel doesn't know he speaks. "Tha gaol agam ort-fh�in."   _I love you, too_.

**Oh, look! It’s the first bit of Gaelic! That, too, is a HUGE kink for me, in any fic with Angel in it. I LOVE fics where Angel speaks Gaelic, and often. Usually endearments, or curses under his breath, or, further along in the story, dirty talk. Yeah, baby.**

�

Chapter Six

In the morning, while Wesley is shaving, Angel comes into the bathroom and wraps his arms around Wes from behind. Wes leans into the embrace, letting out a small sigh as he pulls the razor away from his jaw.

**Being held from behind by your vampire lover in front of a mirror? Kink. Feeling hands on you but not seeing them….yeah. Definite kink. Don’t know why. Maybe that means I also have a blindfold kink? *thinks back to Pet* Oh, yeah. I definitely have a blindfold kink. Hey, you learn something new every day.**

"Good morning, Wes," Angel rumbles against his ear. It brings forth a shiver.

"Good morning, Angel. Have I ever told you how many languages I speak?"

"I don't think it's come up."

"Eleven, fluently, at last count."

**I think that’s the official canon, though I’d wanted more. At least 20. Cuz Wes is freaking brilliant.**

"Well, you're a smart guy," Angel replies, with a kiss to the side of his neck. Wesley smiles into the mirror.

**Aw. Angel’s so proud of his boyfriend.**

"Do you happen to know which languages are involved in that number?"

"Sumerian?"

Wesley leans back harder, pushing against Angel's chest. "Sumerian, yes. Latin, Italian, French, Kungai, are a few as well."

**On retrospect, I wanted to add “Greek” to that list, as well as Hebrew, and possibly Chinese, since we’ve seen Wes able to at least read all of those languages in canon. Buuuuut I’m slow, so I didn’t.**

"That's great, Wes. I love that you're smart. What does it have to do with anything?"

"In my studies, do you think I never attempted to learn Gaelic?"

He can feel Angel stiffen behind him for a moment, before the body at his back shakes gently in silent laughter.

"So...not as subtle as I thought, then?"

Wes puts his razor down on the edge of the sink, and turns around to face his lover.

"I'm afraid not," he grins.

Angel leans forward and kisses Wes. When he pulls away, he's got shaving cream on the end of his nose, which pulls a chuckle from Wesley.

"So," Angel says.

"So."

Another kiss, and Angel pulls away to check his watch.

"We've got at least twenty minutes before we have to be down in the office..."

Wes grins, and whirls around. "I'll just finish up here, then." A few more swipes of the razor, with Angel's hands wandering across the front of his body, making his hands tremble. It's a definite recipe for disaster, and when Angel's fingers ghost across his erection over his trousers, Wes lets out a sharp curse.

Blood drips sluggishly from the wound he's managed to slice into his throat. It's long, though not deep, running across the left side of his throat, just under the jaw line.

**Ohhh. Loooook. Reminding anybody of anything? If you didn’t think of Justine when Wes cut himself, then I did a terrible job, and you should all throw things at me. Which is more than possible.**

"Shit, Wes. I'm sorry."

**You should be! You made my Wes bleed!**

Wesley hisses as he wets a cloth, wiping away the shaving foam and pressing the wound tightly. "It's all right, Angel. It's not very deep."

He holds the cloth for several minutes, while Angel runs his hands up and down Wes' arms in a soothing gesture. Wesley doesn't need soothing; the wound really is superficial, but he doesn't mind the contact nonetheless.

After a moment, he takes the cloth off, and the blood's already stopped, but Angel's looking at him with the most peculiar expression. Wesley can't place the mood he sees, but it could be any number of things: horror, shock, disbelief. Wesley wonders if the wound is ragged, because he can think of no other reason for Angel's facial expression. 

Wes turns to the mirror, and sees the mark. It's nothing extraordinary. Red, trying sluggishly to well with more blood, but not being successful. It stings slightly, though Wesley's felt much worse.   _Sharp, slicing, cutting, burning pain across his throat, so deep blood spilling out over his hand, breath escaping and gurgling when he tries to draw it back in_.

**Oh, look, it reminded Wesley of Justine, too. If you answered no t the last question I asked, Wesley is smarter than you. Except not, because he bloody well IGNORES it. *punishes Wes***

Wesley blinks. The sense of d�j� vu is already gone, and he's not entirely sure what it was for. It was almost a memory, but if it were a memory, wouldn't he remember it now? He turns back to Angel, who's studying him carefully. After a moment, when the silence is almost beginning to stretch out of the more comfortable boundaries, Angel leans forward and places a kiss on his mouth.

**That didn’t come across as clearly as I’d like. I love comfortable silences. I’m very seldom aggravated by silence in a conversation. Mostly because I’m more introspective than yappy. *snicker* So I can sit and think, instead of having to carry on a conversation. For that line, I wanted it to be clear that the silence was becoming uncomfortable, as opposed to their usual comfortable silence, but it didn’t come across as clearly as I’d have wanted.**

"We're gonna be late."

"Yes. I'll hurry, then. I suppose, when we come home tonight, we could--"

"Let's do lunch," Angel replies with an almost feral grin. Wesley blushes, but grins back at the suggestion.

**Blush! And also, another kink: Angel’s feral grin. All Angelus-y. And Angelus is hotter than Angel. Heh.**

 

* * *

 

After lunch, Wesley has to go upstairs and change his shirt, after Angel accidentally popped two of the buttons from it. As he often does when he's alone, Wesley goes to the drawer where Angel stores his sketches. 

Wesley leafs through them, his cock stirring when he comes to the drawing Angel made the night the office found out about their relationship; his own body straining, riding Angel's cock frantically. He'd never thought he could find a picture of himself so erotic, but the way Angel draws him is the way Angel sees him, and Angel sees him with lust-coloured eyes. Wesley allows himself a small smile. He's about to place the drawing back in the drawer when something about it catches his attention. 

**Oh yeah, there’s that drawing again. *imagines drawing in head* I think it looks better in my head than it does when I try to describe it, which is sad, because I don’t think there’s a slasher alive who wouldn’t need a cold shower after thinking about it. Cuz that drawing’s really hot. So, any takers on actually drawing it? Huh? Come on. Please?**

The shadow-scar that Angel had drawn on his throat looks almost exactly like the cut he'd given himself that morning. Wesley blinks at it for long moments, trying to convince himself that it's nothing more than a coincidence. Eventually, he's able to. Angel couldn't have known he was going to cut himself, and he couldn't have known where. Wesley blinks away his doubts, because that isn't possible. He closes the drawer and changes his shirt before heading back down to the office.

**It’s not a coincidence, Wes. Stop thinking with your dick.**

 

* * *

 

Wesley works late, though not on purpose. He simply loses track of time while working on a peculiar translation, and by the time he deigns to look at his watch, it's well after a time that Angel will have expected him up in the suite. Wesley smiles softly to himself as he puts away his notes; Angel will be up in the suite, pacing, but he won't come down to collect Wesley. He'll let Wesley finish what he's doing, as is his way. Wesley really likes that about him. He heads upstairs quickly; now that he knows Angel's waiting for him, he's rather eager to be with him.

He watches blunt, wide fingers work for a few moments when he walks in the door. Not the hands of an artist, but Wesley has seen the talent in those hands that comes from a photographic memory and over two-hundred years to learn proper technique. Sketches have littered their room before, when Angel's gotten into a particularly nostalgic mood, and drawn everything his mind can think of. Some of those sketches are of Wesley, in various stages of dress and undress, but most of the time they're more painful memories for Angel; the women and men he'd called friends or lovers once, but had died somewhere along the line fighting the good fight.

Sketches clutter the room again. A sketch near the ottoman catches Wesley's eye, and he bends to pick it up. He studies it for a moment, brow furrowed. It looks to be a fairly young man, perhaps a teenager.

"Who's this, Angel?"

"It's not important, Wes."

"No, I don't suppose it is. I was just wondering who he was."

"Not important." Angel snatches the rough sketch from his hands, stuffs it into the bottom of the drawer, and Wesley can see Angel barely resist slamming the drawer shut. Wesley decides not to ask again, compelled not to press Angel on the subject. But something about the tone of Angel's voice holds to the back of his mind.

**Oh, look. There’s that prologue again. That means this is where it’s supposed to be. If you were wondering.**

Angel's hands are heavy on his shoulders, as Angel slides behind him, pressing his cool cheek against the back of Wesley's head.

"You worked late." The change in Angel's demeanor doesn't go unnoticed, but Wesley's wrapped in strong arms and finds he can easily ignore it.

"I wasn't looking at the time."

"I missed you."

Wesley hisses gently as Angel nips the skin at the nape of his neck, his body shivering in anticipation. "Did you?"

Angel turns him around and begins to remove his clothing. "Lots."

**Oh, Angel. This is so gonna come back and bite you on the ass. Yeeeeeah.**

When Wesley is naked, Angel allows his own clothes to be removed, eyes greedily taking in Wesley's form. Wesley moves to drop to his knees, but Angel holds his arms, holds him up. Gentle kiss to Wesley's lips, then Angel is kneeling, looking up at him with soft, brown eyes, broad, linebacker's hand holding Wes' heavy cock in his hand as he leans forward to gently lick the tip of it.

"Oh, Christ," Wes groans. Angel's not done this before. Their relationship hasn't been one-sided, but this is something they hadn't gotten around to yet.

**Kink: Angel sucking Wesley’s cock. I’m equal-opportunity.**

Angel presses forward, takes Wes into his mouth, and Wesley can feel his knees melting. Surely he can't still be standing? Delicious sucking wetness around his cock, taking him deep, to the root -- yes, that's right, Angel doesn't breathe, does he? -- and humming something that could be a song but could also simply be sex noises, because Wesley isn't sure at this point, only that Angel's lips are wrapped around his cock, and he's wrapping his hands around Wesley's ass, pulling him, encouraging him to thrust.

**Kink. Wesley fucking Angel’s mouth. Though I DO like it better when Angel fucks Wesley’s mouth. Mrr.**

Mindlessly, Wesley can't help but comply, thrusting shallowly, but thrusting nonetheless, fucking Angel's mouth. He nearly does fall when Angel lets out a deep, lustful moan, and Wesley's eyes snap open to see Angel take one hand from his hip, digging in his dropped trousers, into the pocket and coming up with a tube of lubricant. Wesley expects Angel to begin to prepare him, but Angel tosses the tube, so that it lands directly in the middle of the bed, and continues to suck.

Wesley's trembling, shaking, can't do anything but gasp for air and moan, and thrust in and out of the perfect channel Angel's created with his throat, but he can't seem to come. He's so damned close, so damned ready, but it seems nothing will push him over the edge. Then Angel backs off, eyes focusing on Wesley's face, which is red and flushed and damp with sweat, and Angel wraps a hand around Wesley's cock, stripping it with the force of his strokes, jerking him off as he twists his face into a smirk. 

**Did I mention Angel’s half-smile/smirk as a kink? Meant to. And that expression turning Wes on so much he comes? Meant to do that, too.**

That does it, and Wesley  _is_  falling, can't actually remain standing as his cock shoots, spurts, throbs and pulses, and hot, white stripes of come are hitting Angel's face, his chest, as he holds Wesley up long enough so that he doesn't hit his head when he falls.

Wesley is panting, gasping, and Angel picks him up, depositing him on the bed, on his stomach. Wesley agreeably opens his legs, spreading them wide so that Angel can use him as he pleases; at the moment, he's far too spent to participate. But Angel's plans differ, and Wesley feels a cool, wet tongue at his entrance.

**Okay. Anyone who knows me well knows that my absolute, total, mega-super-biggest kink is rimming. I have no idea why. But rimming is just…yeah. Tops the kink list. I was shocked to realize I hadn’t had rimming in this story until now. I mean, I put it in most of my stories, because I adore it so much. It’s rimming! It’s hot!**

They haven't done this before, either. Angel curls his tongue, flutters it and stabs it deep, never staying with any action for long enough for Wesley to adjust to it, and within minutes Wesley is writhing, cock reawakened and straining, as Angel feasts on his hole. 

**Okay, this line makes me LAUGH. I cannot believe I wrote “feasts on his hole”. Seriously. Was I on crack? Was it three am? I have no idea, but I am so, so, SO sorry. Seriously. I deserve to be flogged.**

Angel replaces tongue with slick fingers, stretching him slightly more before Wesley feels Angel's hard body cover his back and the thick head of his erection push, entering him easily. Wesley pushes back, wanting deeper harder faster, and lets out a harsh cry as Angel puts his full power behind each thrust, ramming into Wesley with delicious ferocity. 

**Kink: rough, hard sex. Yeah, baby. Give it to him good.**

Angel's aim is unerring, slamming into Wesley's prostate each time, until Wesley is a quivering, shaking mass of need, until Wesley can't not come, can't not scream as he comes undone, cock jerking wildly as it shoots all over the bed covers. Angel growls roughly in his ear, stutters his hips madly as he comes too, and Wes can feel himself filling with Angel's release. 

**Coming on the bedding: Kink. I don’t know why, it’s messy, and those things need to be dry cleaned, but…**

Wesley attempts to drag in air, lungs burning with the effort, as Angel collapses on top of him, then rolls them to their sides, careful not to slip out of Wes' body. 

Wesley can't even muster the coherency to remember that Angel can draw, let alone what he drew this evening.

�

Chapter Seven

Wesley wakes when he moves in a way that twinges painfully in his ass. He's not surprised; last night, Angel had been wonderfully rough with him, but now he was feeling the effects of it without the pleasure. He rolls stiffly onto his back, staring up at the ceiling, unable to wipe off the silly smile that's invaded his face.

Angel's perched on one elbow, watching him. His face gets a goofy grin that would be scary if it weren't mirroring Wesley's own.

"It's Sunday," Angel announces.

"Yes? One would assume that Sunday comes after Saturday," Wesley replies.

"It's _Sunday_."

"Yes, we've covered that."

"We don't work on Sundays."

Wesley grins. "No. We don't."

"So we don't have to move today. At all."

**Except when they’re having sex, of course. It’s just, you know, not moving from the BED.**

Wesley's stomach growls.

"Perhaps we'll try the not-moving later?" he says, hissing as his ass reminds him of its soreness as he climbs out of the bed.

"You okay?" Angel asks, as always far too observant.

"I'm fine. I'm afraid our activities last night have left me a little...tender this morning."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm not." They share a smile, then Angel follows Wesley into the kitchen. Wesley makes himself some toast, while Angel downs a cupful of blood. Angel moves his chair to sit behind Wesley while he eats, resting his head on Wesley's shoulder and wrapping his arms loosely around Wes' waist.

**Kink: Adorable kitchen domesticity. Yeah. Once again, sucker.**

When Wes finishes, they go back to the bed, and curl up together. Wesley sighs contentedly, chuckling low in his throat as his cock reacts to Angel's wandering hands.

"My body used to have limits," Wesley grouses as Angel teases a gasp from him.

**But Robin’s controlling you, and you have the sex drive of a rabid lemming. If you were wondering.**

"I'm all about breaking the boundaries," Angel whispers against his chest, tongue flicking out to taste his skin.

Wesley lets out a sigh as Angel takes hold of him, hands stroking and caressing until he's forgotten he's sore from earlier. Angel enters him gently, taking his time. They fuck lazily, until Wesley's burning with the need for release, crying out for it, and only then does Angel allow him to come.

 

* * *

 

"I don't think I'll ever have to wash dishes again," Wesley murmurs, using little cat licks to remove the sweet, brown Nutella from Angel's abdomen. "I'll just eat everything off of you."

**Okay. I have to talk about Nutella for a moment. Until now, I didn’t know it existed. I asked spikes_heart what Wesley would lick off of Angel’s body, because I didn’t think Wes was a chocolate sauce guy, and honey’s too sweet to eat alone. She suggested Nutella. I asked what it was. I nearly died when I found out it was spreadable hazelnut and chocolate paste. Have you ever had Baci chocolates? They’re Italian, and SO good. Nutella tastes like them, only you can spread it on stuff. Seriously. This is my new drug. So it qualifies as a kink.**

Angel chuckles. "Think I can get behind that."

**I vote yes!**

They lapse into silence as Wesley finishes off the rest of his snack. Angel tastes the sweet concoction in Wesley's mouth as he drags the man up his body for a kiss. He smooths a hand down Wesley's flank, fingers moving to probe at Wesley's entrance. Wesley tenses with a quiet hiss.

"Too sore?" Angel asks, his hand moving to less tender territory. 

"I'm afraid so. I'm sorry."

"I should be more careful."

Wesley quiets him with another kiss. "No. I enjoy every second of our time together. I simply need more time to recover before we make love again."

Angel kisses him. "I can do that."

"We could..." Wesley trails off. He can't bring himself to voice the suggestion, though he's not sure why. 

**Do it! Do it!**

"What?"

"Nothing. I..."

"Wes. If there's something on your mind, I want you to tell me."

"I just thought that, since I'm fairly sore, perhaps we could...that is to say, I could..." Wesley's feeling flustered. He's not sure why; after all, he's had Angel's tongue in his ass. This feels much more embarrassing.

"Wes?"

"I was thinking, maybe, I could...take you? If you..."

"Wes." A sigh. "Wes, I don't..."

"That's all right, it was just a thought." Wesley wants to be hiding somewhere, alone, with a bottle of Scotch.

**Kink: Wes angst. This rates up there with rimming.**

"Let me explain, Wes. It's just...that's not..."

"It's all right, that you don't want me to," Wesley interrupts again. "It's perfectly understandable."

"Except that you don't actually understand. So shut up for a moment,  _a ghr�_ , and listen."   _My love_. Wesley will never tire of hearing Angel's Gaelic endearments, he thinks. 

**Me either. What a coincidence.**

"Angelus is a cocky bastard. Big dog, alpha male, always gotta be on top. Always. And I... I've been with three people in a hundred years, including you. I've never..."

Realization, and a little shock, and Wesley's blinking rapidly. "You've never...you're a virgin, Angel?"

Angel gives him a sheepish smile. "In that sense, yeah. Completely."

**Bwaha! Makes sense, though, right? Would Angelus REALLY take it up the ass?**

"I didn't...I didn't know."

"Yeah. So, can I just say...not yet?" Wesley caresses the side of his face, trailing his fingertips down Angel's neck. 

"Whatever you want."

They kiss slowly, languidly, for a few moments. Wesley pulls back as a thought occurs to him. "Angel? Does that mean...I mean, last night, we...you..."

"When I sucked your cock?"

Wes feels the object in question jump at the words. He lets out a breath. "Yes. Was that the first time you've..."

"Second." Wesley raises an eyebrow. "I...maybe tried it once. For money. Before."

**I just threw that in. I mean, Angel, for 100 years, had to do SOMETHING for cash, right? He DID stay in the Hyperion Hotel, so he must have been able to afford it somehow.**

Wesley lets out a soft snort. "I'd never believed in natural ability before. You've proven me wrong."

"So how'd you get so good at it?" Angel replies, half-smile in place. Wesley kisses the curve of his mouth. 

"I went to an all-boys school," he says, kissing his way down Angel's body. "I've had quite a lot of practice, if you think about it."

**Kink: Wesley earning the nickname “Headboy” for a whoooole other reason.**

"I had no idea you were so experienced," Angel replies, shifting his hips up restlessly.

"Oh, it's been years, since I've taken the opportunity," Wesley murmurs, blowing a soft puff of air around the head of Angel's cock. It jumps. "I feel I should practice more. Wouldn't want to forget how." He takes Angel in his mouth.

"I can be your coach," Angel moans, fists crumpling the sheets. Wes moans his own agreement, pulling a shudder from Angel.

 

* * *

 

Sometimes Wesley thinks the world isn't real. Things are too perfect for him; his life has been full of pain and doubt and hurt, and now he's floating and flying in a world of love and lust and filled with Angel. Consumed by Angel.

**Cuz it’s NOT real. Not really. Duh.**

He doesn't mind.

Angel insisted, earlier, that Wes use one of his department's healing ointments on his sore entrance. He wants Angel to take him now, but Angel is teasing him. He doesn't mind that, either.

Angel's got him tied to the bed. This is new for them; they've never played with bondage before. But Wesley trusts Angel, entirely.

**Hahahahaha.**

Angel's licking at his skin, leaving damp, saliva-covered patches that raise goose bumps as the air cools them. Wesley shivers.

"I'd like you to speak to me," he moans, hands straining against the silk neckties that bind his wrists to the bedposts. 

Angel smirks. "Want me to talk dirty to you, Wes?" 

**YES.**

Wes drags in a shuddering breath. "Yes."

"Want me to fuck you with words? Fill you and tell you how it feels, what I want to do to you?"

Another breathless gasp. "In Gaelic."

**I had fun researching this. I found a page with dirty Irish Gaelic, and I twisted it to suit my needs with at least 2 other English-Gaelic dictionaries. I did research! First time I ever did research for a story. And of course, it’s for dirty porn.**

"T� d�il m� chuig labhair chiug t� mar m� gabh t�?"  _You desire me to speak to you as I take you?_

"Maith," Wesley whimpers back, Angel's voice setting his cock to leaking.   _Good._

"Inis t� chuig d�ul m� bhad?"   _Tell you to suck my cock?_

Wesley moans, can't even whimper out the 'yes' he so desperately wants to answer with.

**Actually, I could not find the Gaelic word for “yes” ANYWHERE. Haha. Artistic integrity at its finest.**

"Labhair Gaeilge mar m� feisigh do fein?"  _Speak Gaelic as I fuck your ass?_

"Oh, Angel," Wesley moans, almost coming already, and Angel's sliding into him, lifting his hips and filling him, stretching him, making him see stars. 

"Sin m� bualadh craicinn."  _That's me fucking you._

"Angel!" Wes cries out, cock jerking and spilling, as Angel thrusts into him, picking up speed.

Angel lets out a growl, hips stuttering as Wesley clenches around him. "Wes! God, Wes... T�im ag teacht!"  _I'm coming._

**Yeah, baby. Talk dirty.**

Angel collapses on top of him, reaching up to unbind Wesley's hands. He rolls, gathering Wesley close to his chest.

"Ion�in Aingeal," Wesley murmurs.  _Beloved Angel._

"Mo," Angel growls lightly.   _Mine._

**Sounds like a caveman grunt, doesn’t it? Haha.**

�

Chapter Eight

Monday morning, Wesley has to go to Angel's office on actual business. He takes the elevator from his own office, and approaches Harmony's desk. As he gets closer, his sense of smell recoils. There's a horrible scent coming from her desk. He lets out a strangled cough.

"Don't you love this smell?" Harmony asks, and Wesley realizes it's her hand lotion.

"What is it?" Wesley asks, feeling vaguely sick from the odor.

"Jasmine," she replies.

It's a shock to his system. The word itself brings pain and loss, and he thinks he might vomit. He's dizzy, feels himself sliding to the floor, but can't reach for anything to hold him up. 

**Bum bum BUM!**

He dimly registers that Angel's stormed out of his office, and there's a bit of commotion. He realizes it's because he's on the floor, but he can't bring himself to care enough to try to stand. Angel lifts him, as though he's feather-light, and takes Wesley into his office, laying him on the sofa.

"Wes?"

"Angel..."

"Wes, what's wrong?"

"I don't...there was...there was a smell. Lotion."

Angel storms out of the office, not bothering to close the door, straight to Harmony's desk. Wesley can hear him.

"Harmony! What the hell are you doing?"

"I didn't do anything! I was putting on my hand lotion and I..."

"Get out of here."

"What? Why?"

"Get out of here, and don't ever bring that stuff in here again."

"My hand lotion?"

"The  _smell_."

"Jasmine?" Wesley feels another wave of dizziness, but he manages to stay conscious - barely.

"Get it out of here!" Angel growls.

"Hey, just cuz your boyfriend can't handle the smell of a nice flower--"

"Harmony!   _Now_." The door slams as Angel storms back into the office, straight to the sofa.

**Kink: Forceful Angel. Yeah, baby.**

"Angel, I don't..."

"It's okay, Wes. She's going home, and she's not bringing that smell in here again."

"I don't...I don't remember not liking that smell," Wesley finally says, struggling to sit up. Because he doesn't; he's never had an aversion to it before. He hasn't smelled it in years, but he doesn't remember ever having a reaction to it quite as strongly as this. He thinks maybe he might have liked it, until now.

"You're okay, though?"

"I am, yes, but I don't understand."

"Maybe we should get you to medical?"

"I think...I think I'll be fine. Perhaps...perhaps I've developed an allergy? Over time?"

"That's probably it," Angel says. "That makes the most sense."

Wesley wonders if Angel grasped onto that explanation a bit too readily.

**Ya think? Jesus, Wes, you’re smarter than this. Er…yes, I’m talking to my characters. Why the hell not? I’m starting to run out of intelligent things to say. Wait, that would imply I had something intelligent to say before. Hah.**

 

* * *

 

"It's just rain, Angel. And we aren't that far from home. We needn't call for a car," Wesley tells his lover. They've gone out for a long walk, and on their way back it had started to rain.

"I don't want you to catch a cold," Angel replies, holding him close.

"I'm not as fragile as that, Angel," Wesley reminds him. "It's Los Angeles. The rain is warm."

"Still, I worry about you."

"Because you're a mother hen."

Angel growls and presses Wesley against the side of the building they're passing, grinding his hips - and hard cock - against him. "I'm nobody's mother."

**Yeah, baby. I can’t label this as a kink, because I don’t think it has a label, but it should still go in the Kink column.**

Wesley smiles and leans forward for a kiss. 

Which doesn't happen because they're broken apart by a scream nearby.

They look at one another, and both take off running in the direction of the sound, Wesley struggling to keep up with the faster vampire. They reach an alley, where a young woman holding a wailing baby are backed against a dumpster by two vampires.

As they enter the mouth of the alley, one of the vampires takes the baby from its mother's arms, while the other vampire clutches the woman. She lets out another scream, and Wesley and Angel bound forward. 

**Fight scene. Eugh. Stupid.**

Angel goes for the first, to rescue the child, while Wesley attacks the second, freeing the mother. The fight is short, and when Wesley's letting the rain wash away dust from this clothing, he looks toward Angel, who's gently holding the wailing baby.

A flash of memory, Angel standing in the rain just like this, wriggling pink baby held tightly and safely in his arms, and Wesley is dizzier than he's ever felt in his life. 

Speeding down a swirling tunnel, brain sparking and popping, clicking, as events are clicking into place, and suddenly, Wesley remembers  _everything_. Tiny baby, blinding burning pain across his neck, a pillow over his face, the Beast, Jasmine, all of it, back in his brain as though it'd never left, and it knocks him over, off his feet, and Wesley doesn't even notice, because he  _remembers_.

Accusing, angry eyes turn to Angel. "What did you do?"

**I contemplated having a break here, but I wanted to keep the story going and flowing. So, I didn’t.**

Angel looks at him, sees the expression on Wesley's face. He looks caught, as though he doesn't know what his next move should be, but it's decided for him, as the woman rushes to his side to take her baby, thanking him.

"Get home," Angel tells her, not taking his eyes off of Wesley. She doesn't wait for a second command, rushing off into the more publicly accessible street.

"You bastard," Wesley chokes out, and it grates in his throat, he feels like he's been swallowing crushed glass.

"Wesley, you don't understand--"

" _You_  don't understand, Angel! This is my  _mind_." Angel definitely knows now. Wesley remembers everything. Every last detail of the past year and a half, everything that Angel stole from his mind. "This is the one thing that I... You took it away from me. All of it. You didn't even ask, you just--"

"Would you have agreed if I had, Wesley?"

"Of course not! Which is exactly why you shouldn't have done it!"

"I had to."

"You had to do no such thing."

"Yes, I did, Wesley. You have to trust me.

"Trust you? You lied to me. You took away my memories. And when I started to catch you out on it, you distracted me. With sex. You used sex against me, Angel. And now you're asking me to  _trust_  you?"

**This is what I meant by coming back to bite you in the ass, Angel. Never use sex as a distraction, unless you’re asked to. Which I would, by the way. DISTRACT ME, BABY!**

"It wasn't like that."

"Oh? It wasn't? When I found the drawing of Connor, did you or did you not  _immediately_  seduce me to make me stop thinking about it?"

"I couldn't tell you."

"Actually, as I remember, your mouth was working just fine that day. You absolutely could have told me."

**Yes, his mouth was working fine; he gave Wes a blowjob. If you don’t remember.**

"I'd have lost you."

It would have broken Wesley's heart to say the next words, but for the fact that his heart is already broken. "You have."

It's like a slap across Angel's face, Wesley can see it. Can almost see the palm-shaped flares of red on Angel's cheek, in his mind's eye. 

"I don't understand."

"You're surely not that stupid, Angel."

"Not...not that. I understand why you... But I don't understand how. How you could remember. Nobody was supposed to..."

"Does it matter?"

"Yes."

Wesley turns, walks out of the alley, not even feeling the rain anymore. Not feeling anything but betrayal.

**Kink: Heartache. *pets Wesley***

�

Chapter Nine

"There's nothing to talk about, Angel," Wesley tells him, arms crossed as he stands in Angel's office doorway. Angel called him here, insisting they had to talk about what happened. Wesley disagrees.

"Sit down, Wes. We need to--"

"There is no 'we', Angel. Not any longer."

"Let me explain."

"Explain what? How I'm supposed to trust you? When you stole my fucking  _mind_?" Wesley can't keep the pain, the anger, the contempt out of his voice. 

"You weren't supposed to find out," Angel replies.

Wesley lets out a harsh bark of bitter laughter. "No, I don't suppose I was. I was supposed to trust you blindly, is that it? While you molded my mind to suit your needs?"

"It wasn't..."

Wesley is tired. He doesn't want to have this argument. He wants to go upstairs and pack his things, get out, once and for all. Get out of Angel's life, like he did before. Like he didn't remember. Knowing now, it makes him dizzy, and he sits heavily on Angel's sofa.

"You took that away from me, Angel. My past. Gone, just like that, with the snap of your fingers, so I didn't know any better than to trust you."

"You  _can_  trust me," Angel replies.

"Trust you?   _Trust_  you? You stole my  _mind_. You tried to  _kill_  me! You bloody well--" Wesley's rant is cut off as the air in the office seems to wink, just for an instant, like the lights have flickered.

**This next bit was all thanks to Mad Poetess. I knew I wanted Lilah to be the reason Wes got his memories back, I just didn’t know how or why. Mad Poetess gave me reasons and methods. Because she’s my hero.**

"You rang?" she says, bored, suddenly in the room. Immediately, Angel's in front of her, leaning in, menacing, as though he'd like nothing more than to slam her against a wall, but being that he can't actually touch her, he's settling for taking as intimidating a stance as possible.

"What are you doing here?" he growls.

"Wesley's memory woke up; that was my wake up call. Think of me as your Svengali."

**Look. Sleeping Beauty. GET IT?**

"What the fuck did you do?"

"What do you mean?" Lilah asks him, head cocked slightly to the right.

"He remembers. Wesley remembers."

Lilah nods sagely, as though she were expecting that to be the explanation. "Probably has something to do with the loophole I gave him." It's in a mocking tone, one eyebrow quirked slightly as she fights back a small smile.

**I love Lilah. I really don’t think I did her justice, but I adore her anyway, and hope she’ll forgive me.**

If anything, Angel's stature becomes more intimidating.

"What loophole?" he grits out behind clenched teeth.

She turns to Wesley, who's sitting on the sofa, looking emotionally battered and bruised.

"Why'd you do it, Lilah?"

She turns back to Angel. "Maybe I just wanted to mess with you one last time."

"Why?" Wesley asks, standing.

Lilah seems to think on it for a moment, glancing at Angel, then back again. "You deserve to know what kind of man you are; good and bad. And why."

**I’m pretty sure MP gave me this line directly. Because, well, I’m just not that good.**

Wesley sits down again.

"How?" from Angel.

Lilah shrugs.

"I made that deal with the Senior Partners. Not you. How'd you make the loophole?"

"What are they going to do? Fire me? Send me to Hell? Shaking in my Blahniks." 

**Blahniks. Mmm. Thank you, Sex and the City. Blahniks are a kink.**

"They could have found a way to punish you," Wesley replies.

She turns back to Wesley, and her face softens almost imperceptibly. "It was worth it, either way."

**Kink: Lilah actually loving Wes, as much as Lilah’s capable of it.**

"How did you go behind their backs, Lilah? They're a hell of a lot more powerful than you. They wouldn't have let you get away with it in the first place."

Lilah snorts delicately. "What, you think the Senior Partners are the only ones who make deals with devils?"

"What did you give up?"

Lilah turns back to Wes at the question before turning a defiant glance on Angel. "What it took."

**I debated not actually telling you all what she gave up, but gave in a few lines later. I didn’t want to be too vague. Cuz I’m as subtle as a brick at the best of times.**

There's a moment of silence. "What set it off?" Wesley finally asks, eyes finally meeting hers.

Another shrug. "Time. Sense memory."

"Sense memory?" Angel asks.

Lilah ignores him, keeping her eyes on Wesley. "When you cut yourself shaving? The sketch of Connor, the smell of jasmine bothering you, the baby in the rain, all sense memory. The memories stayed in you. Angel's spell just put them to sleep; I woke them up." She walks away from Angel, standing in front of Wes, her hand up in a ghostly mockery of sliding across his cheek.

**I kinda started to beat you guys over the head with the Sleeping Beauty metaphor, didn’t I? See? Subtle as a brick. Where did that expression come from, anyway? I mean, bricks can be subtle. Unless you’re being hit on the head with them. Which, I guess, is why it’s applicable here.**

"I wanted to show you, we weren't so different. You wouldn't have remembered why if I hadn't."

"You didn't love me." Not a question.

"No less than you loved me."

**Which means she did. Because Wes called her a loved one. So there.**

"It's bullshit." Wes and Lilah turn to look at Angel at the outburst. "She didn't want to show you anything. This was all just to turn you against me."

"I couldn't have known he was going to start fucking you," Lilah scoffs. "For once, Angel, it's not all about you."

"What did you give up?" Wesley asks again, and Lilah turns back to him with a sigh.

"This, right now? This is it for me."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't get to come back. You can summon me, you can subpoena me, it doesn't matter. I don't get to know what you're doing, how you are, where you are, anything. The mystical post office is no longer delivering to my P.O. Box."

**Witness me attempting to be witty. And failing.**

Wesley takes a few moments to digest this. "You're to sever any and all contact with the world, then? That was your sacrifice."

"That about covers it. Which is why Angel knows I'm not screwing with him. I wouldn't give up the chance to watch him squirm." She glances at the clock on the wall. "Speaking of which, my train's leaving."

"Lilah..."

"Don't worry about it, Wes." Another ghostly almost-caress, and she's gone.

**Kink: Lilah saying “Don’t worry about it, Wes”. Partly because it reminds me of the end of Becoming 2, when Buffy had to kill Angel. *sniff***

"So now what?" Angel asks after a few minutes of tense silence.

Wesley whirls around, fire in his eyes. 

"Now I leave."

"Wes, can't we talk about it?"

"More talk about trust, Angel?"

"Look, Wes, I understand..."

"Do you really? You ask me to trust you, to trust that you knew what was best, but you don't trust me, do you, Angel?"

"I..."

"No, you don't. You didn't trust me enough to let me remember the past." Wesley's face pales slightly as he realizes more. "That's why you wouldn't let me fuck you, isn't it? Because you don't trust me. After everything that happened, you don't trust me, but you expect me to trust you now? I  _know_  what happened last year. I know just how well I can trust you."

**Yup, that’s why Angel wouldn’t let Wes fuck him. Cuz Angel loves him, but he’s not ready for the trust yet, no matter how much he says so.**

"You didn't see him, Wes. Before...he was going to kill people. He was going to kill Cordelia, himself, innocents, because he couldn't live in my world. I had to let him out. He was  _my son_."

"Did you kill him?" Wesley wonders why he dreads the answer to this question.

"Yes." 

Oh, that's the answer.

**Meant to be clearer here, too. Because yes, “yes” is the answer, but that’s not what the line means. It means “oh, that’s the answer to why Wes DREADS the answer”. But I’m slow.**

"And then you made everyone forget him."

"And gave him a new life. With a real family, where he didn't grow up in Quar-toth, where he's going to college. Nobody remembers him because he  _no longer exists_."

Wesley digests this.

"And you've always known."

"Yes."

"Then why?" Wesley asks. Angel stares at him for a long moment, until Wes elaborates. "Why did...with me?"

Angel sits on the sofa beside him, reaches for Wesley's hand. Wesley pulls it away. He can't let Angel touch him.

" _Mo gr�_..."

**Kink: Angel loving Wesley, trying to bring back memories of happier times to make Wes forget about the badness of the moment. But Wes has had enough forgetting.**

"Stop it. Just tell me why."

"Because I got over it."

"You got  _over_  it?"

"Look, Wes, we had our differences. But I can look past them, and love you. Why can't you do the same?"

"You  _stole_ \--"

Angel cuts him off by taking the same posture as he had when Lilah showed up. " _You_  stole my  _son_!"

**I’m not gonna be modest here. I love that. “you STOLE” being cut off by Angel. Because Angel’s not totally over it. Wes stole his SON.**

Wesley doesn't flinch back. He raises his eyebrows. "Over it, are we?"

"I forgave you."

"Well, Angel, you've also had several more months than I have to do so. And as I recall, I had my reasons."

"Which I didn't know, when I tried to..."

"Say it, Angel. When you tried to kill me. Everything I did, I did out of love. I thought you were going to kill him. Which, as I know now, wasn't wrong."

"Wesley, I..."

**Wesley, I... It’s not quite “Angel, I…” but it’s close enough to be annoying. Heh.**

"Stop, Angel. It's over. I won't do this." Wesley stands, moves toward the door. He knows he's walking out of Angel's life forever; it hurts.

"Wesley... Do you love me?"

**Kink: Angel sounding like a lost child.**

Wesley stops at the door, but can't turn around. "I love you, Angel. But I can't trust you, and I can't ever forgive you."

He walks out.

**Okay, I almost ended it here. I was completely ready to end it here. Then I realized that one of my biggest kinks, right up there with Wes angst, Nutella, and rimming, is a happy ending. So I kept going.**

�

Chapter Ten

Wesley straps his retractable blade onto his wrist, making sure it's snug and concealed, before leaving his flat and going out into the cool Italian night. 

He's been in Rome for almost a year now, doing his part to keep the demonic population down. He knows he's not the only person in the city working at such a goal, but it's a large city and he doesn't expect to run into anyone he knows.

**Two reasons I chose Rome: Sheepy told me to have him meet up with Buffy, and also because I LOVE it there. I want to go back. Right now. Always. So Rome’s a kink.**

Which is why, after destroying a nest of vampires in the catacombs, the voice behind him startles him.

"My timing sucks."

Wesley whirls around, and there she is. Blonde hair shorn up to her ears, now, but unmistakable all the same: Buffy Summers.

**I think Buffy’d look really good with a short bob. Shorter than after “Gone”, and rounder. Which is why I gave her one.**

"Buffy."

"Wesley? Wesley Wyndam- _Pryce_?"

"Last I checked, yes," Wesley replies. Is he really so unrecognizable?

"Willow wasn't kidding when she said you went all Han Solo." She gives him a wary smile.

"I...like your hair." He blinks. Did he really just say that? He must be more thrown that he'd thought.

**Kink: Wes flustered.**

He turns to the mouth of the cave, moving out, as Buffy falls into step beside him.

"So. Whatcha doin in Rome?"

"Passing the time," Wesley replies.

"Yeah? How's Angel?"

Wesley's step falters only marginally, but Buffy's been in this business for a long time, and it doesn't escape her notice.

She stops walking, a hand on Wesley's arm to stop him as well. He tries to avoid her eyes, but she holds him there until he has to meet them.

She stares at him for a long moment, then lets out a delicate snort. "I know that look."

Wesley drops his eyes again. "I don't know what you're--"

"I invented that look, Wesley. Welcome to the Hearts Broken By Angel club. You can be secretary."

**Another line I’m proud of. Sheepy loved it when I showed her. Because I have multiple betas. Bwaha.**

Wesley doesn't say anything, but Buffy lets go of his arm, so he begins walking again.

"How long's it been?" she asks after another few moments.

"Almost a year. Since I last saw him."

"Yeah? What'd he do?"

Wesley entertains the idea of lying to her. "Raped my mind of the memories of an entire year, including trying steal his son and subsequently almost being murdered twice in one night."

"Neat," Buffy replies. 

**Also loved Buffy’s response, as did my Sheep.**

They walk in silence for a moment. "Okay, I'm trying to be all sage and cool and unneeding of the gossip, but I think you're gonna have to be a bit more specific."

Wesley sighs, and tells her the entire sordid tale. By the end of it, they're sitting in his kitchen, drinking their third cup of espresso. 

**Kink: Coffee. Just for the record.**

"So. Long story, then."

"Essentially."

They talk shop for a while; interesting demons in the area, some of Buffy's more interesting tales of slaying, some of Wesley's. Buffy tells Wesley how the new Council is working out, with Giles at the head, and how Dawn is doing at school. Wesley listens, interjecting his own comments here and there.

It's after three in the morning when Buffy's mobile phone rings. She looks at the caller ID screen. "Oh. Crap."

Wesley raises an eyebrow as Buffy touches the keypad with her thumb, bringing the phone to her ear.

"Hi, Dawnie."

Wesley can hear young Dawn screaming through the phone. "What the hell are you doing not dead?! You made me  _worry_."

Buffy looks at the clock on the wall of Wesley's kitchen.

"Dawnie, I'm sorry, I didn't realize what time it was. I'll be home soon, okay?" She hangs up the phone with an apologetic glance at Wesley.

"Past my curfew," she says.

"I'll walk you out." Wes follows to the door, opening it chivalrously for her. As she's stepping through the frame, she smacks him, fairly hard, on the upper arm.

Wesley flinches; she's still got all her strength. "What was that for?"

Buffy grins at him. "That's for stealing my boyfriend. Tell him I said 'hi'," she replies, and then she's gone, strolling down his walkway. Wesley blinks after her until she's out of sight, before quietly closing the door.

**Sheepy’s idea. The smack and the dialogue. Which I loved, and therefore used. I actually kind of wanted to have Buffy tell him that some things are worth letting go of a grudge, but Sheepy kyboshed the idea.**

He won't tell Angel she's sent greetings, because he won't see Angel. He won't see Angel ever again.

But over the next two weeks, he can't stop thinking about the vampire. Every thought he has belongs to Angel. Finally, he has to admit it. He misses his lover. Perhaps he could...but no, he can't. He can't go back. His pride won't allow it.

**Shyeah.**

 

* * *

 

"Wesley? Oh my God, Wes!" shrieks Harmony, as Wesley steps into the lobby. She jumps out from behind her desk, arms wrapping around him like a crushing steel vise, making his bones creak.

"Hello, Harmony," he says quietly when she finally lets him go. Suddenly, Angel's office door is swung open, and Angel's standing there, looking as wonderful as Wesley knew he would, and Wesley has to convince himself not to run to him. Angel isn't the reason he's here.

"Wes?" Angel asks, voice full of confusion, wonder, disbelief. "What are you...?"

Wesley turns to Harmony, whose face is instantly a mask of contrition. "Ooh. Um...sorry, Boss. I...was supposed to tell you. Wes is coming to borrow some of the books."

Angel blinks for a moment, and Wesley can see his face fall slightly. "Oh."

**Angel surprised and then disappointed. Kink.**

Wesley's only marginally glad that he can still bring about a reaction like that. But it's not why he's here.

"There's a prophecy."

**Ultimate deux ex machina. Damned prophecies.**

"Another one of those kicking around, huh?" Angel replies, and Wesley can tell he's uncomfortable. He's okay with that. Wesley's uncomfortable too.

They stand in silence for a while.

"So. Books," Angel finally says, eyes boring into Wesley's, and it's making him even more uncomfortable. 

"Yes. I've been trying to translate a prophecy, and I'm afraid half of it isn't available anywhere but here. I was hoping I would be able to finish the translations here."

"Yeah. Of course, Wes," Angel says, quickly, putting his hands in his pockets. "Anything you need."

**Angel putting his hands in his pockets. Kink!**

Wesley needs a moment to make his feet move, heading toward the elevator. Angel follows him. "I should...come with you. Let the new department head know..." Wesley nods.

They step into the elevator, and Angel pushes the button for the correct floor.

"So. How've you been?" Angel asks him after a moment.

"Well, thank you," Wesley replies. A beat. "And yourself?"

"Can't complain."

**Well, he could, but then he couldn’t brood about it, could he?**

Wesley's almost surprised to realize he's glad. He knows he's supposed to hate Angel, after what happened, but... He can't quite feel as venomous as he should. As he did.

The rest of the ride is quiet, with only Wesley's carefully measured breathing filling the heavy silence. They get off when the doors open, Angel leading the way to what used to be Wesley's office. He raps his knuckles against the frame of the open door.

"Raimo?" The short, balding man glances up from his desk.

**He was almost named Milton. I asked Sheepy to name him, she said Milton. I asked her where he should be from, she said Finland. So Milton didn’t work anymore. I went to the Finnish hockey team site and stole a player’s name. Hope he doesn’t mind!**

"Yes, Mr. Angel?" he says, and Wesley recognizes his accent as Finnish.

"I have a...friend here, who needs to use one of the templates. That okay by you?"

**Kink: Angel not knowing how to refer to Wes. “Friend” doesn’t cover it, but what else is he supposed to say?**

"Of course, Mr. Angel," Raimo replies, standing up and coming around the desk to meet them at the shelf containing the template books.

"I'll just...I have...there's work I have to do," Angel stutters out, retreating from the office, leaving Wesley alone with Raimo.

"Raimo Helminen," he says, holding out his hand for Wesley to shake. Wesley holds out his own.

"Wesley Wyndam-Pryce," he replies stiffly. Raimo looks up, and Wesley can tell the man's recognizing his name.

"Then I needn't show you how to use them properly, yes?"

"No, I haven't forgotten. Thank you."

"You may use this table here, if you like," Raimo tells him, gesturing to the small conference table nearby. Wesley nods, taking one of the templates from the shelf and sitting down. He opens his briefcase, and starts to work.

With the use of the templates, it only takes him an hour to finish the translation he'd needed. He finds he's rather relieved that the 'fall of man' refers to a harmless meteor shower this coming autumn, and not the end of the world, as he'd feared. He stands with a stretch.

**Because the prophecy was just a deux ex machina. Duh.**

"Wes!" 

Wesley jumps, startled, glances at the door, and sees Gunn there, grinning from ear to ear. "Heard you were in the building, English," Gunn says. "Come on. You and me are going out for lunch."

**Kink: the Wesley/Gunn friendship. I actually always wanted them to be together. Especially all through season two of Angel. But now I realize the error of my ways: Wesley must be with Angel, just as Xander must be with Spike.**

Wesley gives Gunn a small smile. Gunn doesn't remember that they aren't really friends anymore, but it's not Wesley's place to tell him the truth. He's not sure that he should. He's started to wonder, over the past year, if he was better off not knowing as well. 

"Gunn. How are you?" Wesley finds pleasantries are simpler with anyone who isn't Angel.

"We'll catch up while we're having lunch. Put the books away."

Wesley smiles, and this time it's more genuine. "All right. I believe I've finished here anyway."

"Never was anybody that could translate faster than you," Gunn grins, then turns a hasty glance at the Finn across the room. "No offense, Raimo."

"None taken, Mr. Gunn," Raimo replies, though Wesley's fairly sure the man's lying.

Wesley lets Gunn lead him to the elevators after a nod of gratitude to Raimo, and down into the parking garage.

They get into Gunn's Mercedes Benz, and Gunn grins sheepishly when the score of  _Annie: The Musical_  blares from the radio. He turns it down, pointedly ignoring Wesley's curved eyebrow.

**That’s a kink. After A Hole In The World, with Gunn singing musical score then trading off to rap when Wes came to his door, I was enraptured with the idea of it. So, it showed up here. Spikes_heart suggested Annie.**

They make small talk, about several interesting cases Gunn has worked on in the past year, some of the demons Wesley's fought while in Europe, and Wesley knows it's not unlike the conversation he had with Buffy. Catch-up to soften the blow of the real conversation, which Wesley knows is coming.

When their meals are served, he's not disappointed.

"So, Wes... what happened?"

Wesley waits for the elaboration, though he knows what Gunn is asking.

"With you and Angel."

Wesley may have been expecting the question, but he still hasn't managed to come up with a suitable answer.

"We ended our relationship, Gunn."

"Well, yeah, obviously, with the Houdini act, but  _why_?"

**Yeah! Why? Boys pretty! Go hump hump hump!**

"These things happen."

Gunn snorts derisively. "You guys were happy. So happy I'd emailed Willow to ask her about the clause in Angel's curse, and I was getting ready to push it through Contracts."

**Did I mention the curse? That was dumb of me. I ignored it the rest of the time. Meh.**

That gives Wesley pause, but Gunn doesn't stop. 

"There was no trouble in paradise, and then all of a sudden, you were gone and Angel was brooding twenty-four seven. And as your friend, I wanna know why."

Wesley doesn't laugh, though it almost escapes. As his friend, indeed. But Gunn doesn't remember, so Wesley keeps it to himself.

"What happened between Angel and I is our business, Charles. Our relationship ended, and it's for the best."

Gunn studies him for a long time. "Fine. Whatever. But you know I'm here, if you need to talk?"

**Wes/Gunn friendship. Yeah.**

Wesley wishes he could. "Thank you, Gunn, but I've had time to come to terms with it. I'm fine."

Gunn hesitates before nodding. Wesley wonders if Gunn knows he's lying.

**Yeah, obviously.**

�

Chapter Eleven

Gunn convinces him to stay in Los Angeles for at least another day, if only to reacquaint himself with his friends in the office. Wesley's only partially dreading it. He has missed them, but he wonders if he can look them in the eyes after knowing what he does. 

"If it isn't everybody's favorite runaway!" Lorne cries when Gunn ushers Wesley into the meeting room. Wesley feels himself blush. Luckily, Lorne and Gunn are the only people in the room.

"Lorne," Wesley greets him, with a smile. 

"Oh, damn. I left some files in my office. I'll be back in a minute," Gunn says, heading back out the door.

**It was Sheepy’s idea to have Lorne lay into Wes, too, but I had reservations about it, being that my Lorne voice is just awful. Sorry, I’m just not flaming enough. Hee!**

"What's up, Buttercup?" Lorne says.

"The usual; there was a prophecy, I translated it."

"Par for the course." Lorne's face takes on a puzzled expression. "I know I wanted to ask you something. Now, what was it? Oh yeah! Why the heck did you leave?!"

Wesley sighs. "Lorne..."

"Oh, no. No excuses, pal. Why'd you leave?"

"Angel and I dissolved our relationship."

"What am I, Helen Keller? You think I didn't notice the brood levels spiking into the red zone around here?"

**Though I did like the Helen Keller comment. Cuz she was blind and deaf. If you were wondering.**

"Lorne, I don't think..."

"What did he  _do_? One minute it's hearts and flowers and groin action a-plenty, and then he walks around acting like you died!"

**Groin action a-plenty is right. I wrote it, after all. You expected less porn? You don’t know me very well.**

Wesley doesn't have anything else to say.

Lorne leans in close, places a soothing arm around Wesley's shoulders, his face open and sympathetic.

"Okay. It's all right, Loverboy, you don't have to tell me." Wesley sighs in relief. "Unless you want me to start telling the story about how you  _really_  got that motorcycle."

Wesley blanches. How does Lorne know about that?

**Sheepy’s idea; the whole motorcycle thing. I’m not actually sure it fits, but I was so stuck by this point, I didn’t care.**

Lorne shrugs. "You never should have sung 'We Are the Champions'."

The door opens, and Wesley turns toward it. 

"Wes." It's Angel. His steps falter as he enters the room. "How'd your translations go?"

"Fine, thank you. The world won't be ending this autumn."

"Good to know."

"Oh, look, tension. I'm gonna go get a knife to cut it. Maybe a chainsaw," Lorne says quickly, stepping out the door and closing it behind him. The action leaves Wesley alone with Angel.

"So," Angel says uncomfortably.

"Yes. Quite."

"Look, Wes, I--"

Wes can't let whatever it is that Angel's about to say be said. He feels he might shatter if he has to engage in any more polite small-talk, and he knows for sure that he'll break if the conversation turns to more serious, heart-breaking topics.

"As I'm finished with my translations, I expect I'll be heading back to Italy in the morning," Wesley interrupts him.

"Yeah. Yeah, I guess so."

Silence.

"Rome? Where..."

"Where Buffy is, yes. I ran into her a few weeks ago."

"How is she?"

"She's well. She asked me to tell you 'hello' the next time I saw you."

"Oh. That's...okay. Thanks."

More silence. Wesley wonders if he's really drowning in it, or if it just feels that way.

"I suppose I'll go back to my hotel for the remainder of the day, then. I'll book a flight for morning."

"I...yeah. Okay. That's... Okay."

**Kink: Angel not saying what he wants to say.**

"Thank you for allowing me to use the templates. And please be sure to thank Raimo for the hospitality of his office."

"I'll do that."

Wesley starts to move toward the door.

"Wesley, I..." 

***Cries***

Wesley halts. Waits. "Yes, Angel?"

**Another Pet shout out. Yes, Angel.**

Angel hesitates. "Have a safe trip."

"Thank you." Wesley's heart sinks as he continues toward the door. He'd hoped...no, he didn't hope. He and Angel couldn't have a relationship. There was too much. But... Damn, he wants it. He stops before his hand even touches the knob. "Angel?"

"Yeah?"

Wesley closes his eyes. Lets out a breath. Turns back around to look directly into Angel's eyes. "Are you really just going to let me leave?" He could kick himself.

Angel hesitates again. "Do you want me to stop you?"

**Sheepy’s idea. I loved it, I stole it. “Do you want me to stop you?” *I* want you to, Angel, so yes.**

"I..."

"I will, if you want me to, Wes."

Wesley can't say it aloud, but he wants him to. Wants him to so desperately that he's afraid he might actually be able to say it aloud, might actually  _beg_  Angel to ask him to stay. Afraid he wouldn't be able to say no.

"Angel, this can't..."

"Can't work. I know."

"There's too much..."

"Too much in the past, I know."

**Kink: Angel finishing Wesley’s sentences, and both of them wanting the words to be false.**

Wesley can't tear his eyes away, though, to leave. His feet won't move. He's stuck, exactly where he is, looking at Angel. He can't bring himself to leave, not yet, because this time he knows if he leaves he can't come back.

Wesley's self-control breaks, and he takes a step. Away from the door.

"Angel…"

Angel doesn't move a muscle, as though he's afraid the slightest movement will send Wesley running, like a skittish cat.

**Kitty!**

"Do you think we could have worked out? If I'd stayed?"

"I don't know, Wes."

"Do you think… maybe we could have trusted one another again?"

"I trusted you by then."

**Except he didn’t. But my artistic integrity left the building.**

The admission makes Wesley's heart thump heavily in his chest. "Do you think forgiveness is what breeds trust?"

"I think so, yeah."

Wesley stares at him for a long moment. "Angel…I've forgiven you."

Angel takes that in. "Does that mean you trust me?"

"I…I don't know. I'd like to. But...there would have to be…terms. If we were to… It would have to be on my terms."

"I run a law firm. We could draw up a contract." The corner of Angel's mouth twitches, but Wesley doesn't want to joke right now.

"You would have to…trust me. Explicitly. No more… hiding things, or… taking things that aren't…"

"I would never take anything from you that you weren't willing to give, Wesley. Not again."

Wesley digests this. He leans forward, and whispers. "In for a penny," he says, and presses his lips to Angel's.

**I had to put this in. It’s exactly what Wes said the first time he kissed Angel. He said “in for a penny” and jumped Angel’s bones, and so he had to say it now.**

Wesley starts the kiss gently, meaning for it to be brief and quiet, but the instant his mouth touches Angel's, he's lost, on fire, consumed. He lets out a moan as Angel crushes their bodies together, pressing Wesley back against the wall, hands roaming and exploring, relearning lines and muscles and flesh.

Angel's mouth moves down, tasting Wesley's neck, his collarbone, trying to pull Wesley's shirt up, down, anything to get to more skin, as Wesley's fingers clutch at his shoulders.

"God, Wes…" Angel whispers, pressing forward with his hips, drawing a gasp from Wesley as he feels the evidence of Angel's arousal meeting his own.

Angel jerks back, panting, eyes heavy-lidded. Wesley blinks at him owlishly.

"Wes…are we…?"

"God, yes, if you'd hurry and undress me," Wesley moans, pushing himself off the wall to get close to Angel again.

"We can't…this is the meeting room."

Wesley stops. "Right. I should have…"

"Let's go upstairs." 

Wesley doesn't hesitate, letting Angel take his hand and lead him from the room, out across the hall to the elevator. The doors aren't even closed when Angel takes possession of his mouth again, and Wesley dimly hears Lorne's voice in the hall.

"Oh, thank  _God_!" Lorne cries.

**Kink: Lorne stating the obvious.**

 

* * *

 

Wesley's pressed up against the wall of the elevator, dizzy at the feel of Angel's hands touching him, his arms, his chest, his back, his ribs, his neck, everything, his mouth being devoured and at the same time devouring, reveling in the taste of Angel. Angel, whom he's missed so much for so long, and he'd thought he'd forgotten Angel's taste, but it's just as wonderful and perfect as he remembers it to be.

**Kink: Getting it on in an elevator. Which was Lazuli’s idea. Even though she never wanted to read the story, because it isn’t Spike/Xander. Hee!**

"Wes, God, Wes, I missed you so much," Angel whispers against his lips, and Wesley responds by pushing his hips forward, grinding against Angel's, bringing cloth-covered friction to the bulge in Angel's trousers.

"Angel," he sighs, as cool hands find their way underneath his sweater, slipping past cashmere to tickle across his skin.

**Kink: Cashmere.**

"I couldn't stand it when you weren't here, Wes. I need you."

Wesley tries to think of a response, but words won't come. Instead, he captures Angel's mouth again and tries to pour his gratitude, his voiceless apology, his own need into the kiss, as his hands tangle themselves in Angel's hair. Angel rubs his palm against the light stubble peppering Wesley's jaw, just as the bell for their floor dings and the elevator doors open.

**I said “voiceless apology” because Wes doesn’t apologize. In case you didn’t notice that, I thought I’d point it out.**

Angel pulls back, pulling Wesley with him so that they stay close, mouths still consuming one another, hands still wandering, as they move out of the elevator and into the suite. Angel pulls him all the way to the bed, pulls Wesley down with him, on top of him, not relinquishing his mouth at all as his hands move down to Wesley's hips and pull their hips together, dragging Wesley's erection against his own.

Wesley lets out a harsh cry, trying to reach between them and get clothes out of the way so that their cocks can move together unhindered. He pushes fingers down into Angel's waistband, his fingers reaching and finding Angel's dripping cock as his thumbs work buttons. Angel's head falls back and from his chest comes a low, guttural moan.

**Angel’s sex noises? You guessed it. Kink.**

"God, Wes, keep doing that, I'm not gonna last. Missed your touch so much."

"Then I'll keep touching you," Wes murmurs against Angel's neck as he pushes his trousers down, wriggling his own hips to push fabric out of the way.

Angel moves to still Wesley's hands as they reach for his erection, holding onto his wrists gently.

"I want this to last, Wes. It's been so long…"

"And for me as well, Angel. Let's take the edge off, hm?"

**Kink: Being so turned on, they need to take the edge off. Obviously.**

"Save the fancy stuff for round two?" Angel asks with a half-smile.

Wesley returns the expression. "And rounds three and four, as well, I expect." Wesley leans down and kisses Angel again, licking the roof of Angel's mouth. Angel rewards him by releasing his wrists, and jerking his hips up as Wesley's hot hand wraps itself around his shaft.

Wesley's thrilled at the feel of Angel's cock, hard and heavy in his hand; he's missed this, more than he'd realized, but now that he has it back again it's filling his head, bringing spots behind his eyelids. 

"Mo ghr�," Angel moans, his own hands moving down to release Wesley's cock from his own slacks, and Wes can't keep his hips from stuttering when that familiar hand closes around him, sending frissons of pleasure up his spine. "Mo muirn�n."   _My darling_.

**Gaelic.**

Wesley pulls away, starts to slide down Angel's body, and Angel moves up on the bed to make the journey shorter. Wesley kisses across Angel's chest, pushing his shirt up to reveal cool, pale skin, pressing fluttering kisses against Angel's trembling skin. Finally he reaches his goal, and presses a gentle kiss to the tip of Angel's cock, earning a low moan. 

Angel spreads his legs, giving Wesley room to get comfortable as Wes takes the head into his mouth, fluttering his tongue across the slit before wrapping it around the head, pushing it under the foreskin, sucking and lapping at the dribbles of fluid that are gathering on his tongue. He pushes down, and he knows he's always been good at this, at holding his breath and relaxing his throat and taking the entire length into warm, wet heat, making Angel moan and writhe under him.

Angel reaches down, slides his fingers into Wesley's hair, not pushing but holding, cradling the back of Wesley's head as Wesley bobs up and down, taking him in and sucking and licking.

**Angel putting his hand on the back of Wesley’s head as Wes blows him is a kink.**

"God, Wes, remember the first time we did this?"

Wesley moans. He remembers.

"I wanna see you touch yourself for me, I wanna see you get off, just from sucking my cock. Think you can do that for me?"

Wesley can't hold back a whimper, pulling off of Angel's cock and moving down to draw his tongue across Angel's taut sac. "No, Angel, I won't last, if I so much as touch it…" he murmurs between lock, full licks.

"Yeah? This turn you on, tasting me? Sucking my cock?"

Wesley moans and takes the length back in his throat, his own erection twitching at the sound of Angel's voice, the nature of the words it was speaking.

"You like my cock, Wes? Like it in your mouth? Like knowing how fucking hot you look down there, sucking on me, moaning and looking like you've never tasted anything so good in your whole fucking life?"

**There’s that dirty talk again. This time it’s in English. So it can count as a new kink. Hee!**

Wesley moans again, jaw starting to ache as he moves his head faster, a drop of his own saliva dripping down his lower lip as it moves along the underside of Angel's erection.

"Want me to come in your mouth, mo ghr�? Wanna taste it? Feel it? Want me to fuck your mouth?" Wesley can't help it; the feel of Angel's cock in his mouth, the taste of it, the words spinning around him like twinkling currents of electricity draw him over the edge, and he knows he's ruining Angel's bedding, can't even begin to give a damn as he feels Angel's balls draw up, tight, feels the first throb and shudder and his mouth is filling, bitter and salt and copper and cream, and it's the perfect mixture of tastes, sliding down his throat as he swallows against the head, so focused on Angel's cock that he's only dimly aware of Angel, shouting, above him.

Finally, Wes pulls up, away, panting, eyes glazed and blinking slowly, as Angel sits up, drags Wesley over and rolls him onto his back. Wesley lets out a ragged moan as Angel leans down, begins licking at Wesley's own cock, cleaning off the remnants of his own release.

**Angel licking Wes clean. Or Wes licking Angel clean. Kinks.**

Angel moves up, presses their mouths together, and it's a soft, gentle, open-mouthed kiss, Angel's tongue slipping past Wesley's lips, tracing out the taste of his own come. Angel's hands run under his sweater again, cooling overheated skin with his fingers.

Wesley breaks the kiss and pushes Angel's shirt up, pulling it over his shoulders, his head, eyes following every plane of muscle and flesh, even as his hands move to push Angel's trousers further down. Angel helps by kicking the offending garment from his ankles, so that he's lying naked above Wesley, propped up on his elbows as he takes control of Wesley's mouth again.

After a few minutes, Angel stops, pressing kisses against Wesley's jaw line, pushing and pulling at clothing until Wesley, too, is naked underneath him.

Wesley drags his hand down Angel's chest, gently rolling a nipple between thumb and forefinger as his knee bends, inner thigh skating against Angel's hip. His other hand reaches over, digging in the drawer of the table beside the bed, until he finally finds it; the tube of lubricant Angel kept there. He pushes it into Angel's palm, spreading his legs as wantonly as their current position will allow.

"Please, Angel," Wesley murmurs, pushing the head of his revived cock against Angel's abdomen.

Angel pulls up, glances at the lube, and appears to consider it for a moment. Finally, he shakes his head, pressing the lube back into Wesley's hand. "No,  _eann�n_ , I want… I want you to take me. Please."

**Eann�n. I don’t know what it means. I know I looked up a word to get it, but I cannot for the life of me remember what that word was, and I apparently forgot to write it down. It’s kind of annoying, isn’t it? Oh, wait, ignoring the obvious here. Yeah! Other kink: Wesley fucking Angel. Though I still like it better the other way around, the odd change-up don’t hurt my heart, I’ll tell ya.**

Wesley's head falls back against the pillows, eyes wide. He stares up into Angel's face, places a hand against his cheek.

"Angel…are you sure?"

Angel swallows. "Yes. Wesley… m� muin�n t�."   _I trust you._

**Kink: revived trust, love, etc. Sucker!**

Wesley, after a moment, nods, and lifts his head to capture Angel's lips in a gentle kiss. It lasts an eternity, then Angel allows Wes to roll them, so that he's lying atop Angel's body, and then they're kissing again, soft and slow and sweet, as Angel lets his legs fall apart, and Wesley runs his hands up the inside of his thighs. Instead of moving higher, to the hidden opening there, Wesley caresses down the top of his lover's thighs, then back up, repeating the cycle over and over, soothingly, as Angel's muscles relax, as his tongue sweeps across the inside of Angel's mouth.

Eventually, Wesley picks up the lube from the bed, opening it with one hand and coating the fingers of the other with the slick fluid. He reaches down, and runs a fingertip around Angel's hole, pressing a kiss to Angel's chest as he feels the puckered opening flutter against the digit. A few more teasing strokes across it, and Wesley gently pushes the tip of one finger in, inside the smooth-slick walls of Angel's channel.

Angel hisses, hips shifting just barely, pushing against that finger, trying to drive it deeper. Wesley takes pity on him and presses in further, further, and begins to thrust it in and out, filling Angel with it then pulling it out, Angel moans, eyes closed. "Wes…More, Wes, please," he whispers, and Wesley kisses him again, pulling his finger out and adding more lube before adding a second finger, pushing them inside Angel's cool body.

Angel's hips writhe again, a little more pronounced, as Wes pushes two fingers in, pulls out, pushes in, pulls out, stretching Angel slowly, carefully.

Angel's still moaning, panting, as Wesley prepares him, and finally Wesley is finished, taking more of the lubricant and spreading it carefully over his cock.

He settles himself between Angel's open thighs, and Angel tips his hips in invitation. Wesley meets his eyes, sees lust more than nerves, and guides the head of his cock to that slicked opening. "Wes…" Angel moans. "Please."

**Kink! Angel begging. Or Wesley begging. Either way? Yeah.**

It sounds like begging, and Wesley has to close his eyes as he pushes forward, slightly, feeling Angel stretch around him, and he slides in, slow, slow, slow, until he can feel himself fully enveloped. He can't move; surely it will be over if he moves, but he has to look at Angel, see his face, make sure he's not hurting his lover.

Angel's looking back at him with wonder, his throat working convulsively as he tries to swallow or talk or breathe, and Wesley leans forward to press a kiss to those slack, open lips. Angel's hips thrust down, pushing Wesley more firmly inside him, and Wesley lets out a gasp. He's lost now, and he has to move, thrusting gently in, pulling almost completely out, repeating the motion as Angel's hands move up his arms, under his shoulders, fingers digging into his flesh as he moves with him.

"Angel, I…" Wesley whispers, wanting to stop his hips, wanting to tell Angel he's sorry, he loves him, he missed him, he needs him, but he can't get his throat to work, and his hips are quite happy staying in motion.

**Aw, fuck. “Angel, I…” Angel, I need to finish a fucking sentence.**

"You're so hot, Wes…God…never thought…so good inside me…" Angel mutters, hands moving faster, touching every inch of Wesley's torso he can reach, neck arched as he meets Wesley's thrusts. 

**Kink: REALLY good first times. Not going to go into why, but it’s a kink.**

Wesley reaches one hand between them, wrapping it around Angel's straining cock, pumping the flesh as he moves faster, moaning as Angel writhes under him, brain dizzy with desire.

Angel lets out a moan, and uses his strength to roll them, so that Wesley's lying on his back, Angel straddling his hips, writhing on top of him. 

Wes cries out, thrusting his hips up as Angel pounds down on him, head falling back against the pillows.

**Kink: Angel riding WES like a pony. Yeah, baby.**

Wesley reaches his hand up, grasping Angel's cock again, and Angel's hand closes over his, encouraging it to move faster. Angel pushes his hips down in an almost punishing rhythm, and Wesley moves his hand to match the tempo, unable to keep his eyes open as his back arches off the bed, feeling his cock encased in Angel's body over and over again.

**Two hands, one cock. Kiii-iiink**

"Wes--" Angel gasps, and suddenly Angel's cock is jumping in Wesley's hand. Angel cries out, low and long, moving faster on top of him, and Wesley can feel spurts of come land on his chest and neck, and he feels himself rushing over the edge, as Angel clenches and shudders around him, air and sound catching in his throat, ears roaring as his hips jerk up, pounding his release into Angel's hole.

Angel's body stays suspended above him for a moment, every muscle tight with tension, back arched and skin shining in the low light of the room, then collapses over him, drawing a soft sound from Wes at the impact. After a moment, Angel rolls to the side, and Wesley whimpers as his cock slides out, before Angel pulls him in close, so that Wesley's curled up against Angel's broader chest. Angel presses gentle kisses against the top of Wesley's head, and Wesley's body wants desperately to let the post-sex haze send him into unconsciousness, but he wants to stay awake, stay with Angel.

"Wes, that was… God, I love you," Angel murmurs against his skin, and Wesley moves closer, practically trying to crawl inside Angel's skin, to be closer.

"I love you too, Angel," he whispers into a kiss against Angel's throat. Angel rolls to his side, facing Wes, tipping his chin up for a kiss before once again wrapping his arms tightly around the thinner man. Angel settles into the embrace, letting go of his mouth and hugging him closer for a moment, then closing his eyes to go to sleep.

"Angel…"

"Yeah, Wes?" he asks, opening his eyes again.

Wesley glances down self-consciously. "I don't…I don't want to go to sleep."

Angel simply looks at him, waiting. 

"I've never been happier than I am right now, Angel. If I go to sleep…"

**Excuse me while I go into a diabetic coma.**

Angel sighs, kisses Wesley's forehead. "Wes… go to sleep. We'll have tomorrow together, and the day after, and the day after that. I'm not letting you go again."

Wesley kisses him, and it's desperate but not hungry, then leans his forehead against Angel's chin.

"Sleep,  _mo ghr�_." Wesley sighs, relaxes further as Angel kisses the top of his head again, and falls deeply into slumber.

**Sleeping Beauty, see?**

**_ END _ **

**So, that’s it. There you go. Those are my not so brilliant thoughts. I’m going to scroll up and count the number of kinks I actually rattled off in there, for posterity. And…Total kink count? 83.5. Dude. DUDE. *blink* That’s freaking insane. This fic is SUCH a wank-fic. Whee! And that’s all I have to say! Hope you enjoyed this. I’m gonna go eat some Nutella.**


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